
Book_^.AjAi. 



LITTLE MEMOIRS OF THE 
EIGHTEENTH CENTURY 



JY THE SAME AUTHOR. 

MRS. DELANY 

A MEMOIR : I70O-1788. 

siicoxn /-D/r/OA 



IVith Seven I /lust rations in Photogravure. 
Crown Svo. Cloth gilt. js. 6ti. 

' We cordially thank Mr. Paston for his 
skill in compressing the record into so 
agreeable and readable a volume.'— 
Literature. 

'A delightful book, which the eighteenth- 
centur J' student will do well to preserve.'— 
Daily Chronicle. 

' From every point of view she was a 
memorable woman, and her life, in the 
agreeable form in which Mr. Paston pre- 
sents it, is well worth reading. It will 
send many readers to the larger book.' — 
The Times. 

' 'Tis like reading a book by Thackeray 
to go through this entertaining mirror of 
fashionable life in the last c^n\.\xxy:— Scots- 



LONDON: GRANT RICHARDS 

9 HENRIETTA STREET, W.C 



LITTLE MEMOIRS 

OF THE 

EIGHTEENTH CENTURY 

BY 

GEORGE PASTON 



- .. -^^- 



WITH PORTRAITS IN PHOTOGRAVURE 



NEW YORK 

E. P. BUTTON AND CO. 

GRANT RICHARDS 

LONDON 

1901 



^ 



A" 
J. 



First printed March 1901 
Reprinted May 1901 



Edinburgh: T. and A. Constable, (late) Printers to Her Majesty 






PREFACE 

In the following Memoirs I have invited the reader to 
meet a little company of men and women xoho may seem, at 
first sight, to have little or nothing in common ivith one 
another, consisting as they do of two grandes dames of the 
second George's Court, a poet playioright who dabbled in 
diplomacy, an aristocratic declassee zvho died in the odour 
of royalty, an ea-shoemaJcer turned bookseller, a Highland 
lady with litej-ary proclivities, and a distinguished scholar 
tvho xvas chiejiy remarkable for his misfortunes. Yet the 
points of resemblance, though less obvious, are scarcely less 
decided than the points of contrast, for all were children of 
the same century, cdl belonged to the genus ' self-revecder^ all 
have left their ' confessions,'' in the form of letters or auto- 
biography, all were celebrated, or at least notorious, in their 
own day {with the exception of John Txveddell, whose 
notoriety xcas posthumous), and all have fallen, xvhether 
deservedly or not, into neglect, if not oblivion. 

It has seemed almost like an act of charity to resuscitate 
these sociable garrulous beings, if only for half an hour, 
and allow them to gossip to a modern reader. The long 
stories that they told to a more leisured age woidd strain 
the patience of a tzventieth-century audience ; yet there are 



PREFACE 

'm these long-winded chronicles many quaint reflections, 
many curious traits of character, many intimate records of 
men and manners, xvhich, like the dried petals in a howl 
of pot-pourri, still preserve their savour and pungency. 

I have made no attempt to act as special pleader for any 
member of my little company. While allowing them to tell 
their own stories in their oxvn comjdacent fashion, I have 
quoted, hy way of corrective, certain of the more candid 
comments of their contemporaries. Horace Walpole dis- 
poses of Lady Pomfrefs pretensions to lear7iing, and pricks 
the bubble of Lady Craven^s reputation ; Cumberland is 
satirised by Sheridan, and a member of the Pindar family 
pokes fun at Mr. Lackington ; while the kind-hearted Sir 
Walter gives Mrs. Grant a rap on the knicckles, and poor 
John Tweddell is jilted by his sweetheart — the most practical 
of all adverse comments. Thus, having presented the 
evidence to the best of my ability, I leave to the judicious 
reader the task of summing up and finding a veidict. 



CONTENTS 

PAQK 

LADY HERTFORD (1699-1754) : LADY POMFRET (cir. 1700-1761), 3 

RICHARD CUMBERLAND (1732-1811), . . .57 

LADY CRAVEN (Margravine of Anspach) (1750-1828), . . 119 

JAMES LACKINGTON (1746-1815), .... 205 

MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN (1755-1838), .... 237 

THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL (with Extracts from 

HIS UNPUBLISHED Love-Letters) (1769-1799), . . . 299 

INDEX 385 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

LADY CRAVEN AND SON, Frontispiece 

HENRIETTA, COUNTESS OF POMFRET, . . page 10 

RICHARD CUMBERLAND ,,101 

LADY ELIZABETH BERKELEY, AFTERWARDS LADY 

CRAVEN, ....... ,,136 

JAMES LACKINGTON, ,,225 

MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN, ,,290 

JOHN TWEDDELL ,,302 



LADY HERTFORD 

AND 

LADY POJMFRET 



LADY HERTFORD 

(1699-1754) 
AND 

LADY POMFRET 

(cirm 1700-1761) 

There is a little group of noble dames whom, by reason 
of the frequency with which they smile and curtsey to us 
out of the letters and memoirs of past days, we come at 
last to look upon as old acquaintances, if not as intimate 
friends. We hear of their flirtations from one chronicler, 
of their follies from another, a feminine correspondent 
describes their ' birthday clothes,' a wicked epigram hits 
off their personal defects, a flowery dedication credits 
them with all the virtues. Among the ladies whose 
doings supplied much material for contemporary gossips, 
and who themselves wielded only too fluent pens, were my 
Lady Hertford and my Lady Pomfret. Their corre- 
spondence, which was published in 1804, met with a 
success that would have delighted them had they been 
alive to witness it ; but its popularity was not of a last- 
ing quality, like that of their contemporary, Lady Mary 
Wortley Montagu, and in a few years its vogue was 
over, and the writers forgotten by the public. At the 
time of its publication the editor, a Mr. Bingley, had 
not the opportunities which we enjoy of comparing his 

3 



LADY HERTFORD AND 

material with the numerous letters of Horace Walpole 
which have been printed since the beginning of the 
century. The Lady Pomfret of the correspondence is 
represented to us as a gr ancle dame of the utmost 
refinement and culture, but the Lady Pomfret drawn 
for us by Walpole's malicious pen is the most per- 
fect specimen of a precieuse ridicule that her century 
has produced. We have more than a suspicion that 
Lady Hertford belonged to the same genus, but in her 
case there are fewer data to go upon. It is certain 
that she too prided herself upon being something 
more than a mere woman of fashion ; for she ostenta- 
tiously patronised the poets, took an interest in the fine 
arts, and dabbled, not too successfully, in the rhymed 
couplets so dear to the poetaster of the period. 

Frances Thynne was the elder of the two daughters 
and co-heiresses of the Hon. Henry Thynne, only son 
of the first Lord Weymouth, and was born at Longleat 
in 1699. Li 1713 — though then only fourteen, if her 
biographer's dates are correct — she was married to 
Lord Hertford, son of that domestic Tartar, the 
' proud ' Duke of Somerset. Soon after her marriage 
she became one of the Ladies of the Bedchamber to 
Queen Caroline, then Princess of Wales, and continued 
in her office until the Queen"'s death in 1737, when 
she retired into private life. She had distinguished 
herself during her stay at Court by interposing with 
the Queen on behalf of Savage when he was found 
guilty of murder in a drunken brawl. ' His merit and 
calamities,' says Johnson, in his Life of the poet, 
* happened to reach the ear of the Countess of Hert- 
ford, who engaged in his support with all the tender- 
ness that is excited by pity, and all the zeal which is 
4 



LADY POMFRET 

kindled by generosity ; and demanding an audience of 
the Queen, laid before her the whole series of his 
mother's cruelty, exposed the improbability of an 
accusation by which he was charged with an intent 
to commit a murder that could produce no advantage, 
and soon convinced her how little his former conduct 
could deserve to be mentioned as a reason for extra- 
ordinary severity. The interposition of this lady was 
so successful that he was soon after admitted to bail, 
and on March 9, 1728, pleaded the King's pardon.' 

In the same year, 1728, Thomson dedicated his 
poem ' Spring ' to Lady Hertford, ' whose practice it 
was to invite some poet into the country every summer 
to hear her verses and assist her studies. This honour 
was once conferred upon Thomson, who took more 
delight in carousing with Lord Hertford and his friends 
than in assisting her ladyship's poetical operations, and 
therefore never received another summons.' It must 
have been before she had marked her sense of his 
misdemeanours that the poet addressed her in the 
lines : — 

' Oh, Hertford, fittest or to shine in courts 
With unaffected grace, or walk the plain 
With innocence and meditation joined 
In soft assemblage, listen to my song. 
Which thy own season paints ; when nature all 
Is blooming and benevolent, like thee.' 

Both Shenstone and Dr. Watts dedicated poems 
to Lady Hertford, who was also the patroness of 
minor poets of her own sex, such as Mrs. Elizabeth 
Carter and Mrs. Rowe. According to Lady Mary 
Wortley Montagu, Lady Hertford was the original 

5 



LADY HERTFORD AND 

of Arabella in Mrs. Lennox's once famous novel, The 
Fair Quixote, though without Arabella's beauty. 

Henrietta, Countess of Pomfret, was also an heiress, 
being the only surviving child of Lord Jeffries of 
Wem, and granddaughter of the first and infamous 
Lord Jeffries. In 1720 she married Thomas Fermor, 
Lord Lempster, who, a year later, was created Earl 
of Pomfret. Shortly after her marriage she, like 
Lady Hertford, was appointed one of the Ladies of 
the Bedchamber to Caroline, Princess of Wales. 
During the early years of her marriage she was 
a friend and protegee of Mrs. Clayton's, afterwards 
Lady Sundon, and many of her letters to that 
lady, in which she asked advice in Court difficulties, 
have been preserved. In April 1726 Lady Pomfret 
went to Bath in attendance on the Princess Amelia, 
daughter of George ii., and from thence she writes to 
Mrs. Clayton : — 

' The Princess Amelia is the Oddest, or at least one 
of the Oddest Princesses that was ever known ; she has 
her Ears shut to flattery, as her heart open to Honesty ; 
she has Honour, justice, good-nature, sence, wit, resolu- 
tion, and more good qualities than I have time to tell 
you ; so mixed that (if one is not a divel) 'tis impossible 
to say she has too much or too little of any ; yet all 
these does not in anything (without exception) make 
her forget the King of England's daughter, which 
dignity she keeps up with such an obliging behaviour 
that she charms everybody. Don't believe her com- 
plaisance to me makes me say one silible more than 
the Rigid truth, tho' I confess, she has gained my 
Heart ; and has added one more to the number of 
those few whose Deserts forces one's affection.' 
6 



LADY POMFRET 

This letter, which was probably intended for Caroline's 
ears, is signed 

' Dearest Mrs. Clayton's 

Most grateful, faithful and sincere 
friend and servant.' 

In 1727 Lord Pomfret was appointed Master of the 
Horse to Queen Caroline, a post which he is said to 
have bought of Mrs. Clayton with a pair of diamond 
earrings worth £1400. This transaction gave rise to 
a well-known bon mot of Lady Mary Wortley's, who, 
hearing the old Duchess of Marlborough express sur- 
prise that Mrs. Clayton should call on her ' with her 
bribe in her ear,' exclaimed, ' How are people to know 
where wine is to be sold if she does not hang out a sign ? ' 

In 1728 Lady Pomfret was again at Bath with the 
Princess Amelia, and in the following letter to Mrs. 
Clayton gives a curious glimpse into the troubles of a 
lady-in-waiting : ^ — 

' I hear from London that it is said at St. James's I 
have offended a woman of great Quality by leaving her 
out in an invitation to play at Cards with the Princess. 
I am so altered about vexing myself for triffles, and 
there is in reality so little in this, that till you tell me 
the Queen is displeased I will not be so about it ; yet as 
it has an odd appearance in the terms I have put it, 
have patience to read the matter of fact, and then judge 
for yourself and me. When the Princess first came 
down every Person of Quality (that ever went to Court) 
both sent and came to enquire after her Health. In 
two or three days she went to drink the Waters, and 
between every glass, walked in Harrison's Gardens, 
where all people of Fashion came and walked with 
1 Now first published. 



LADY HERTFORD AND 

her ; the others (that were not known to her) walked 
at a little distance. The third morning Lady Frances 
Manners asked me if I knew Lady Wigtoun (a Scotish 
Countess) ; I said I had never heard of her in my life, 
and believed she had not yet sent to the Princess, upon 
which both she and the Duchess of Rutland smiled, and 
said, " No, nor she won't, I can tell you ; for seeing the 
Princess coming to the Pump the morning before, she 
had run away like a fury, for fear of seeing her, and 
declares so public an aversion to the King that she 
would not go to the Ball made on the Queen's Birth- 
day." They laughed much at her open violence, and 
said she would not speak to any one she thought a 
Whig. All the Company agreed in this discourse, but 
while "'twas about she herself came into the gardens, and 
walked very rudely past the Princess, and pushed away 
the Duchess of Rutland and myself that was near, and 
neither offered to make the least curtsey, for two or three 
turns and then went out. After the Princess came home 
she told me to send for six Ladies to play at cards with, 
which I did of the most considerable at Bath. Next 
day Lady Wigtoun went to Scotland for her whole life, 
as 'twas fixed she should long before the Princess came. 
Neither the Princess nor myself said one word when she 
passed by in that rude manner.' . . . Lady Pomfret 
concludes by begging her friend to clear her from the 
accusation of having shown neglect or incivility towards 
a great lady. 

The greater part of this unpublished correspondence ^ 

has little intrinsic interest ; but one more letter to Mrs. 

Clayton (now become Lady Sundon) may be quoted, 

which is dated from Hanover Square, August 1735, 

^ Now in the British Museum. 

8 



LADY POMFRET 

Lady Pomfret had evidently just come up to town for her 
term of waiting, and writes to describe her first visit to 
Kensington, where the Queen was then living during the 
King's absence at Hanover. ' All I can say of Ken- 
sington,' she writes, ' is that 'tis just the same as it was ; 
only pared so close as the King does the Sacrament. My 
Lord Pomfret and I were the greatest strangers there ; 
no Secretary of State, no Chamberlain or Vice-Cham- 
berlain, but Lord Robert, and he just in the same Coat 
on the same spot of ground, with the same words in his 
mouth, that he had when I left 'em. Miss Meadows in 
the window at work, etc., but tho' half an hour after 
two, the Queen was not quite dressed ; so I had the 
Honour of seeing her before she came out of her little 
blew room, where I was graciously received, and ac- 
quainted her Majesty co her great sorrow how ill you 
have been ; and then to alleviate that sorrow I informed 
her how much Sundon was altered for the better, and 
that it looked like a Castle. From hence w^e proceeded 
to a very short Drawing-room, where the Queen joked 
much with my Lord Pomfret about Barbadoes ; and 
told me she would have wished me joy of it, but that 
Lady Pembroke being in waiting, she feared to put her 
in mind of her Brother. I heard, but not at Court, 
that the two Ladies of the Bedchamber and the Gover- 
ness are yet on so bad a Foot, that upon the latter 
coming into the room, the others went away, tho' just 
going to sit down. I am very unwilling to mention one 
thing, because I fear 'twill displease Miss Dive,^ who has 
so much pleased me, but it is the Discour at present that 
the Prince his Wedding is put off till May, as the King's 
return is to the latter end of October ; this, with Mr. 
^ One of the maids of honour and niece of Lady Sundon. 

9 



LADY HERTFORD AND 

Hervey's intention of resigning his Equerry's Place, is all 

the news I have Thus, dear Lady Sundon, you see 

I am plunged as deep in chitchat as if I had not been 
out of it : and 'tis but like a Delightful Dream, that 
calmness, that freedom of Thought, of Look, of Action, 
enjoyed at Home, and improved at Sundon — but here 
'tis otherwise, and our first Parents at leaving Paradise 
could not find it more necessary to hide part of their 
Bodies than we at Court do to hide part of our Minds,' 

Lady Pomfret, like Lady Hertford, retired from 
public life after the death of the Queen in 1737, and it 
was about this time that the ardent friendship began 
between the two ladies who, during the period of their 
employment at Court, seem to have considered it prudent 
to refrain from any close intimacy. In the autumn of 
1738 Lady Pomfret went abroad with her husband and 
elder daughters for three years, during which time she 
kept up a regular correspondence with Lady Hertford. 
Her first letter to that lady is dated September 2, 
1738, and is written from Monts, near Paris, where the 
Pomfrets stayed during the first six months of their 
sojourn abroad. 

' Your ladyship's obliging commands that I should 
write to you,' she begins, ' I with great pleasure obey, 
but I am ashamed to think how little entertainment I 
can send you from a country that is esteemed an inex- 
haustible fund of amusement to all the polite world 
who visit it. I am not insensible to its charms, a clear 
air, a beautiful well-cultivated soil, with a civil and 
diverting people ; yet all this is nothing but what 
Gordon's Grammar can tell you better than L' Re- 
fraining on this occasion from describing well-known 
sights, Lady Pomfret contents herself with sketching in 
10 



LADY POMFRET 

few words her old-fashioned house, her large garden, and 
her quiet occupations — ' working a little, reading more, 
and walking very much"' — and signs herself with the 
flourishes then fashionable : — 
' Dear Madam, 

Your Ladyship's 

Most obliged and 

Most obedient humble servant.'' 

This formality was somewhat relaxed in the course of 
a correspondence which was carried on with marvellous 
diligence by the friends, who seldom allowed a week to 
elapse without posting a letter, though the punctual 
delivery of their epistles was quite another matter. A 
lesson on the courtly good manners of the period may 
be learned from the compositions of both ladies, though 
one may be permitted to rejoice that so much cere- 
mony and such high-flown acknowledgments of small 
favours are not expected between intimate friends in 
the present day. Lady Pomfret, more especially after 
her arrival in Italy, draws her material rather too 
unblushingly from histories and guide-books; but Lady 
Hertford, living for the most part a retired life in the 
country, relies more upon her own reflections, and upon 
such scraps of gossip as may come her way ; conse- 
quently, her letters are more interesting as well as more 
illustrative of the social history of her period than are 
those of her friend. 

Her first letters are dated from a house in Windsor 
Forest, called St. Leonard's Hill, where there was little 
to record except the folly of the Duke of Marlborough,^ 
who had bought a small island at Bray, and built a 
little pleasure-house on it in full view and hearing of the 

' This was the second Duke of Marlborough, nephew of the great Duke. 

11 



LADY HERTFORD AND 

bargemen on the river ; and the gallantries of the 
young Duke of Cumberland,^ with which the forest was 
ringing. A trip to London in January 1739 to attend 
the Birthday is productive of little news except that 
the Duke of Marlborough has lost seven hundred pounds 
on Twelfth Night, and that ' the Princess Amelia was 
on Banstead Downs during all the rain on Wednesday 
engaged in a fox-chase. It is a happy thing to have so 
robust a constitution as receives no injury from such 
Amazonian entertainments ; and if the poor Queen were 
not too late an instance to the contrary, I should begin 
to fancy that princesses were not of the same composi- 
tion with their inferiors." The modern reader might 
find Lady Pomfrefs descriptive letters somewhat tedious, 
but Lady Hertford declares that she passes no part of 
her time so agreeably as when she is reading them, and 
that there is scarce a day in which she does not go 
through them more than once. In one of these absorb- 
ing communications there is an account of a jaunt to 
Paris, which Lady Pomfret describes as a fine town 
where the generality of the people live with more gaiety 
than those of London. 

' The public diversions, however,' she continues, ' are 
inferior to ours ; the theatres are less, ill-shaped, and 
worse ornamented ; and though their comedians excel, 
their music is below that of a dog-kennel. To their 
masquerades they admit the meanest of people, and the 
greatest part are so ill-dressed that they rather resemble 
the crowd of a mob than a civil assembly. As to the 
more private entertainments in particular houses, they 
are very elegant, and have an air of magnificence not 
common in our country. The dress of the company 
1 The hero of Culloden was then only eighteen. 

12 



LADY POMFRET 

makes a great show ; and I have been at several balls 
where in this respect they far outshone some of our latter 
birthdays. The different - coloured furs with which 
they trim their clothes in winter have a nobler appear- 
ance than one can imagine without seeing them. But 
to give you an instance of true French splendour, I 
must conduct you to Versailles, the fine apartments of 
which, for above these twenty years, have rather been 
looked upon as the monument of the dead Louis than 
the Court of the living one. But all things have their 
period, and love, mighty love, has roused the sleeping 
monarch. He is to Madame de Neuilly the most tender 
and most submissive of men. He frequents and gives 
entertainments; and as I was a spectator at his Majesty's 
masquerade, I must say that I never saw a more glorious 
sight than his palace when lighted up with more than 
40,000 wax candles. There never was a greater plenty 
of fine things to eat and drink, nor better order in 
the distribution of them, and the constant attendance 
to supply light and food as each diminished was 
admirable.'' 

While Lady Pomfret is slowly journeying via Lyons 
and Marseilles to Sienna, and writing many sheets 
of condensed guide-book on the way, Lady Hertford 
indites a sort of fashionable and literary chronicle for 
the amusement of her friend. Mr. Pope, she records, 
has lately thought fit to publish a new volume of poems, 
and she gives as a specimen an epigram which had been 
engraved upon the collar of the Duke of Cumberland's 
dog :— 

' I am his highness' dog at Kew : 
Pray tell me, sir, whose dog are you ? ' 

' Does it not remind you,' asks her ladyship, * of one 

13 



LADY HERTFORD AND 

of a more ancient date which I believe is repeated in all 
the nurseries in England ? — 

" Bow, wow, wow, wow, 
VFhose dog art thou ? " 

' I do not infer from hence that Mr. Pope finds him- 
self returning into childhood, and therefore imitates the 
venerable author of the last, in order to shine among 
the innocent inhabitants of the apartments where his 
works are most in vogue. ... I have been agreeably 
amused by reading Signor Algarotti's Nezvtonianismo per 
le Dame, translated into English in very good style by a 
young woman not more than twenty years old.^ I am 
well informed that she is an admirable Greek and Latin 
scholar, and writes both those languages, as well as 
French and Italian, with great elegance. But what 
adds to the wonder she excites is that all this learning 
has not made her the less reasonable woman, the less 
dutiful daughter, or the less agreeable and faithful 
friend. ... I conclude you have heard of Miss Camp- 
belPs ^ preferment, who is married to my Lord Bruce. 
She is eighteen, and he is fifty-seven ; however, I hear 
my Lady Suffolk ^ and Lady Westmoreland have con- 
vinced her that she is very happy. I cannot say that I 
wish either your daughter or my own a happiness so 
circumstanced.'' 

In June 1739 people are talking of war, and the 
preparations for it engross a great part of the public 
attention, but the enemy is as yet incognito. ' Mr. 

1 Elizabeth Carter. 

2 CaroHne Campbell, daughter of General John Campbell, afterwards 
Duke of Argyle. She was the third wife of Lord Bruce. 

3 Better known as Mrs. Howard. 

14 



LADY rOMFRET 

Whitfield and his fellow-Methodists, we read, 'are likewise 
a subject of much conversation, and people either espouse 
or oppose their cause with a great degree of warmth. 
With some people he is considered as a saint or an 
apostle ; but with others a hypocrite, an enthusiast, a 
madman, or a blockhead. My Lord Lonsdale, and 
others who have heard him, believe him to be a man of 
great designs and to have a capacity equal to anything. 
... At first he and his brethren seemed only to aim 
at restoring the practice of the primitive Christians 
as to daily sacraments, stated fasts, frequent prayer, 
relieving prisoners, visiting the sick, and giving alms to 
the poor ; but upon some ministers refusing these men 
their pulpits, they have betaken themselves to preaching 
in the fields ; and they have such crowds of followers 
they have set all the clergy in the kingdom in a flame. 
. . . The Bishop of London has thought it necessary to 
write a pastoral letter, to warn the people of his diocese 
from being led away by them, though at the same time 
he treats them personally with great tenderness and 
moderation. I cannot say Dr. Trapp has done as much 
in a sermon entitled " The Great Folly and Danger of 
being Righteous overmuch," a doctrine which does not 
seem absolutely necessary to be preached to the people 
of the present age. What appears to be most blamable 
in the Methodists is the uncharitable opinions they 
entertain in regard to the salvation of all who do 
not think and live after their way. The recorder of 
Bristol says that Mr. Whitfield has been much among 
the colliers in that neighbourhood, and has collected so 
much money from them as to erect a building large 
enough to contain five thousand people. It is to serve 
them as a church and schoolhouse. He says al'so they 

15 



LADY HERTFORD AND 

are so much reformed in their manners that one may pass 
a whole day among them without hearing an oath.' 

Meanwhile Lady Pomfret has arrived at Sienna after 
a perilous voyage from Marseilles to Genoa. * Imagine 
me,"" she exclaims, ' embarked in bad weather on board a 
small tottering boat, the Mediterranean raging, and the 
mariners frightened out of their wits ; with great diffi- 
culty getting to shore at Savona, where we stayed three 
days for want of a wind, with stinking victuals, no wine, 
and beds worse than none ; after this setting out in a 
storm, with the sea coming into the boat the whole way, 
and arriving at last at Genoa.' Lady Pomfret was 
charmed with Genoa, and extols the gracious Italian 
custom of placing a foreign visitor under the protection 
of a native lady, whose office it was to act as a social 
cicerone to her charge. ' As I did not like play,' she 
writes, ' the Signora Durazzi, a woman of infinite wit 
and agreeable conversation, always entertained me ; for 
it is not here, as in France, that you must pay the lady 
of the house, or never get into it. ... I am very 
proud of the genius that honours our sex in the person 
of the young woman you mention [Elizabeth Carter], 
and in return will inform you of a parallel to her. This 
is another female [Signora Bassi], of about twenty-four, 
of mean birth, but of such superior knowledge and 
capacity that she has been elected the philosophy pro- 
fessor at Bologna, where she now gives lectures as such.' 

The Hertfords' house in Windsor Forest being much 
out of repair, in the course of this year they bought 
from Lord Bathurst, the friend and patron of many 
poets,^ the estate of Richkings near Colnbrook, which 

' Pope addressed to Bathurst the third of his moral essays, ' On the 
Use of Riches,' and Sterne drew his portrait in the ' Letters to Eliza.' 

16 



LADY POMFRET 

Pope had called his ' extravagante hergerie.'' The sur- 
roundings, says Lady Hertford, perfectly answer that 
title, and come nearer her idea of a scene in Arcadia 
than any place she ever saw. Not only was there a 
boat, a cave, a greenhouse to drink tea in, but, more 
delightful still in the eyes of a literary lady, there was 
' an old covered bench in the garden, which has many 
remains of the wit of my Lord Bathursfs visitors, who 
inscribed verses upon it. Here is the writing of Pope, 
Prior, Congreve, Gay, and (what he esteemed no less) 
of several great ladies. I cannot say that the verses 
answered my expectations from such authors ; we have, 
however, all resolved to follow the fashion, and to add 
some of ours to the collection. That you may not be 
surprised at our courage in daring to write after such 
great names, I will transcribe one of the old ones, which 
I think as good as any of them :■ — 

" Who set the trees shall he remember 
That is in haste to fell the timber ? 
What then shall of thy woods remain 
Except the box that threw the main ? " ' 

In January 1740 Lady Pomfret has arrived at 
Florence, which she much prefers to the dearness and 
dulness of Sienna ; and has received civilities from 
Horace Walpole, then on his travels, from his notorious 
sister-in-law Lady Walpole, and from Mr. (afterwards 
Sir Horace) Mann. From this time forward we get an 
occasional report of her ladyship"'s sayings and doings, as 
well as of the flirtations of her handsome daughters, the 
Ladies Fermor, in the letters of Horace Walpole. Among 
Lady Pomfrefs early visits at Florence was one to the 
Electress Palatine, the only survivor of the House of 
Medici. This lady was generally thought proud and 
B ' 17 



LADY HERTFORD AND 

forbidding ; ' but to me,'' writes this particular visitor, 
' she was easy and entertaining. She kept me ten times 
longer than her usual audiences, and talked over my own 
family and that of our Court, one by one, . , . When 
I departed her Lord-Chamberlain followed me a room 
further than usual ; and she has since done me the 
honour to say to others that my behaviour had given 
her no ill opinion of the English Court.' 

Lady Pomfret prides herself upon having discovered 
a very scarce and valuable book, of which there is but 
one copy to be sold in Florence at a price too great for 
her to give. This is the novels of Bandello,^ which, 
however, was less scarce than she imagined ; for Lady 
Hertford replies that she has just been reading this 
book, of which a new edition was about to be published 
in London. She offers, Avith a touch of patronage, to 
procure a copy for Lady Pomfret, as well as a copy of 
the papers of Thurloe, CromwelPs secretary, which were 
to be published by subscription. Then follows a little 
fling at Mr. Pope, who was evidently not one of the 
tame poets who were invited to correct their hostess's 
verses on summer visits : — 

'The severity of the weather [February 1740] has 
occasioned greater sums to be given in charity than was 
ever heard of before. Mr. Pope has written two stanzas 
on the occasion, which I must send you because they 
are his, for they have no merit to entitle them to be 
conveyed so far : — 

' ''Yes ! — 'tis the time," I cried, ''impose the chain 
Destined and due to wretches self-enslaved ; 
But when I saw such charity remain, 

I half could wish this people should be saved, 

^ Born 1480, died 1562. His novels were published in 1554, 

18 



LADY POMFRET 

Faith lost, and hope, our charity begins. 
And is a wise design of pitying heaven — 

If this can cover multitudes of sins. 
To take the only way to be forgiven." ' 

In a letter dated May 1, 1740, Lady Hertford 
complains : ' We talk of nothing but encampments, 
bringing in Spanish prizes, taking forts, and such-like 
heroic exploits, and this eternal turn of conversation 
makes me envy the description given in the First Book 
of Kings of Solomon's people who dwell safely, each 
under his own vine and fig tree/ 

Lady Pomfret deals conscientiously, and at great 
length, with the churches and galleries of Florence, but 
she is more readable when she describes the characters 
and customs of Florentine society. In one letter there 
is a curious sketch of the old Marchese Riccardi, a rich 
and eccentric personage, who also figures in Walpole's 
correspondence. ' He has a fine palace,' we read, ' full 
of the best pictures, statuary, and furniture in Florence, 
as well as a noble collection of books, medals, intaglios, 
cameos, and so vast a quantity of plate that it appears 
like the furniture of a sovereign prince. This man's 
dress and person greatly resemble those of an old 
broken-down shopkeeper. The object of his constant 
attention is news of every kind ; and in order to retain 
what he learns, he keeps a great number of people who 
have filled hundreds of volumes with his observations, 
or rather his collections. He has correspondents in all 
parts of Europe, in order to be informed who gives 
dinners or balls, who are invited, what the dishes are, 
how every person is drest, etc. He regularly goes out 
every morning and evening, attended by six footmen, and 
in a quarter of an hour he has not one left, dispersing 

19 



LADY HERTFORD AND 

them all into different parts of the town to get at 
these remarkable intelligences, which are no sooner 
obtained than they are committed to writing by his 
seoretaries.' 

In another letter Lady Pomfret writes with great 
delight of an improvisation which had been arranged 
for her at the house of an Italian friend. ' A man and 
a woman (the former celebrated for his learning, and the 
latter for her genius) maintained a dialogue to music. 
I was requested to give the subject, and I proposed the 
question, " Why are women generally more constant than 
men ? " They began, and with an infinite deal of wit on 
both sides they each supported their opinions with quota- 
tions from both sacred and profane history, which they 
applied in a most lively and varied manner for near two 
hours, without any pauses more than were necessary for the 
music. I wished to have their composition in writing ; 
but they told me that was impossible, for were they to 
begin again immediately, they should not be able to 
repeat what they had said before. In this woman there 
is something very extraordinary and interesting. The 
Princess Violante, driving one day in the country, heard 
her singing as she spun ; and being then but seventeen, 
she was immediately taken to Court, where she was 
advanced to be dresser. In this situation, though her 
genius has improved, her humility and virtue have not 
decreased, but she has lived with the esteem and love of 
every one who has known her. She is married to a 
substantial tradesman, and enjoys a small fortune, which 
she owes to the bounty of the princess ; and from a 
respect to her memory and commands, she has refused 
all proposals for performing in public."' 

Horace Walpole, writing from Florence to his cousin, 
20 



LADY POMFRET 

Mr. Conway, in July 1740, says : ' Lady Pomfret has a 
charming conversation once a week. She has taken a 
vast palace and a vast garden, which is vastly commode, 
especially to the cicisheo part of mankind, who have 
free indulgence to wander in pairs about the arbours. 
You know her daughters : Lady Sophia is still, nay, 
she must be, the beauty she was ; Lady Charlotte is 
much improved, and is the cleverest girl in the world, 
speaks the purest Tuscan like any Florentine. . . . 
On Wednesday we expect a third she-meteor. Those 
learned luminaries, the Ladies Pomfret and Wal})ole, 
are to be joined by the Lady Mary Wortley Montagu. 
You have not been witness to the rhapsody of mystic 
nonsense which these two fair ones debate incessantly, 
and consequently cannot figure what must be the issue 
of this triple alliance ; we have some idea of it. Only 
figure the coalition of prudery, debauchery, sentiment, 
history, Greek, Latin, French, Italian, and metaphysics; 
all, except the second, understood by halves, by quarters, 
or not at all. You shall have the journals of this 
notable academy.' 

Lady Mary was a correspondent of Lady Pomfret's, 
and had professed to come to Italy in 1739 in order 
to be near her friend ; but as she had stayed several 
months at Venice on her way to Florence, the compli- 
ment had lost some of its flattery. Lady Hertford is 
evidently keenly interested in all that relates to her 
sister-scribe, with whom she does not appear to have 
been personally acquainted. In writing to thank Lady 
Pomfret for sending her Lady Mary's essay on La 
Rochefoucault's maxim, ' Qu'il y a des mariages com- 
modes mais point de delicieux,' she observes : — 

' I own it gives me great pleasure to find a person 

21 



LADY HERTFORD AND 

with more wit than Rochefoucault himself undertaking 
to confute any of his maxims ; for I have long enter- 
tained an aversion to them, and lamented in secret that 
a man of his genius should indulge so invidious an 
inclination as that of putting his readers out of conceit 
with the virtuous actions of their neighbours, and 
scarcely allowing them to find a happiness in their own. 
. . . Montaigne is another author whom I cannot 
sincerely admire, and I never see a volume of his work 
lie on the table of a person whom I wish to be my 
friend without concern. If I were to educate a child to 
be suspicious, splenetic, and censorious, I would put 
those authors into his hands ; and in order to prepare 
him to read them with a proper relish, instead of the 
History of the Seven Champions^ or the exploits of 
Robin Hood, Gulliver's Travels should be put into his 
hands ; and when he had a mind to sing, the ballads of 
" Chevy Chase," or the " Children in the Wood," should 
be laid aside, and some of Dean Swift"'s modern poetry 
should be set to music to supply their place. I own 
when I see people delight in painting human nature in 
such sombre colours I am apt to believe they are giving 
us the picture of their own minds ; for a man of true 
virtue and benevolence would not find it easy to persuade 
himself that there are such characters in the world as 
these gentlemen seem pleased to exhibit to us.' 

With some rather pessimistic and sceptical verses of 
Lady Mary's, Lady Hertford is much less pleased, 
remarking that it was a pity the writer did not look 
into the New Testament for the conviction that she 
sought in vain from pagan authors. ' How agreeable 
and just,' responds Lady Pomfret, ' are your reflections 
upon the verses I sent you ! What pity and terror does 



LADY POMFRET 

it create to see wit, beauty, nobility, and riches, after a 
full possession of fifty years, talk that language, and 
talk it so feelingly that all who read must know it 
comes from the heart ! But indeed, dear madam, you 
make me smile when you propose putting the New 
Testament into the hands of the author. Pray, how 
should you or I receive Hobbes' Philosophy if she, with 
all her eloquence, should recommend it for our instruc- 
tion ? I remember having heard a very observing 
person say that our first twenty years belong to our 
hearts, and the next twenty to our heads ; meaning that 
till the first are over, the adorning of our persons, and 
love, occupy most of our thoughts, and that the other 
twenty by degrees form our minds, and settle certain 
principles which seldom or never change. According to 
this rule. Lady Mary Wortley has been ten years (at 
least) immovably fixed. I therefore have contented 
myself with the amusement that arose from the genius 
which God Almighty has bestowed upon her, leaving to 
her the care and consequence of being grateful to the 
donor.' 

A lurid light is thrown on the manners of the golden 
youth of Italy and England a century and a half ago by 
a couple of anecdotes related in these letters. The first 
is told by Lady Pomfret, and deals with the behaviour 
of a young Guadagni to the Marchesa Corsi, grand- 
daughter of old Riccardi. The young man treated his 
fiancee so roughly during the time of their betrothal, 
telling her that she ' danced like a devil,' and that he 
should lock her up after the marriage, that she broke off 
her engagement, a proceeding almost Avithout precedent 
in Florentine society. Lady Hertford caps this story 
with the following account of the conduct of Lord 

23 



LADY HERTFORD AND 

Euston, son of the Duke of Grafton, to his betrothed, 
Lady Dorothy Boyle, daughter of Lord Burlington, the 
' architect Earl ' : — 

' Though Lady Dorothy, besides her vast fortune, is 
said to have all the good sense and gentleness of temper 
that can be desired in a wife, and has so fine a face that 
were her person answerable to it, one could hardly 
imagine anything more beautiful ; yet he takes every 
opportunity to show his contempt and even aversion for 
her, while she entertains very different sentiments for 
him, which, notwithstanding the great modesty of her 
temper, she cannot always conceal. Amongst the many 
balls that were given last spring, there was a very mag- 
nificent one at the Duke of Norfolk's, where I saw so 
many instances of the slighting manner in Avhich he 
treated her, and of her attention to him, as raised both 
my indignation and my pity. But I heard that at 
another ball he carried his impoliteness much further ; 
for when the company was sitting at supper, after 
looking upon her for some time in a very odd manner, 
he said, " Lady Dorothy, how greedily you eat ! It is 
no wonder that you are so fat." This unexpected com- 
pliment made her blush extremely, and brought the 
tears to her eyes. My Lady Burlington, who sat near 
enough to hear what passed, and see the effect it had 
upon her daughter, coloured as much as the young lady, 
and immediately answered, " It is true, my lord, that she 
is fat, and I hope she will always be so, for it is her 
constitution, and she will never be lean until she is less 
happy than we have always tried to make her, which I 
shall endeavour to prevent her being.*" Those last words 
were spoken in a tone which gave the company reason 
to believe that her ladyship''s eyes were at last opened to 
24 



LADY POMFRET 

what everybody else had seen too long. ... I know of 
nothing since but that they are not married, and indeed 
I hope they never will be so. Were the young lady my 
daughter, I should with less reluctance prepare for her 
funeral than for such a marriage."' 

There is something like a prophetic ring in those 
words, for poor Lady Dorothy was married to Lord 
Euston in October 1741, and died from his ill treat- 
ment of her six months later, being then only just 
eighteen. Horace Walpole, writing to Sir Horace Mann 
only a fortnight after the marriage, says : ' I wrote you 
word that Lord Euston is married ; in a week more I 
believe I shall write you word that he is divorced. He 
is brutal enough, and has forbid Lady Burlington his 
house, and that in very ungentle terms ! The whole 
family is in confusion, the Duke of Grafton half dead, 
and Lord Burlington half mad. The latter has chal- 
lenged Lord Euston, who accepted the challenge, but 
they were prevented. . . . Do you not pity the poor 
girl, of the softest temper, vast beauty, birth, and 
fortune, to be so sacrificed ? ' After Lady Dorothy's 
death her mother painted a portrait of her from memory, 
on which was placed the following inscription : — 

LADY DOROTHY BOYLE. 

Born May the 14th, 1724. 
She was the comfort and joy of her parents, the delight of 
all who knew her angelick temper, and the admiration of all 
who saw her beauty. 

She was married October the 10th, 1741, and delivered (by 
death) from misery. 

May the 2nd, 1742. 

This portrait was afterwards engraved, and prints 
were distributed by Lady Burlington to all her friends. 

25 



LADY HERTFORD AND 

The inscription, of which two versions are quoted by 
Walpole, is said to have been written by Pope. 

The present of a pair of alabaster vases from Lady 
Pomfret to Lady Hertford calls forth a letter of thanks 
which may be taken as a typical specimen of the ac- 
knowledgment which the good breeding of the period 
demanded in return for even a trifling gift. ' There is/ 
writes the recipient of the vases, < an elegance in them 
superior to anything I ever saw ; and yet, estimable and 
beautiful as they are in themselves, their being a mark 
of your friendship enhances their value to me even 
beyond their own merit. I sit and look at them with 
admiration for an hour together. ... I have not a 
room in the house worthy of them ; no furniture good 
enough to suit with them ; in short, I find a thousand 
wants that never entered my head before. I am grown 
ambitious all at once, and want to change my berg-eric 
for a palace, and to ransack all the cabinets in Europe 
for paintings, sculptures, and other curiosities to place 
with them.'' This letter belongs to the same genus as 
that written by the Princess Craon to Horace Walpole, 
in which, after thanking him for some bagatelles he has 
sent her, she concludes : ' The generosity of your friend- 
ship for me, sir, leaves me nothing to desire of all that 
is precious in England, China, and the Indies ! ' Even 
Lady Pomfret, herself a phrase-monger, seems to have 
been a little overwhelmed by her friend's gratitude, for 
she replies, 'You quite confound me, dear madam, 
with the encomiums you bestow upon a couple of ala- 
baster vases, fit only for the obscurity of a grotto ; and 
very justly make me blush for having sent so trifling a 
present,' 

In November 1740 Lady Hertford writes that she is 
26 



LADY POMFRET 

going to town for the winter, her lord being so subject 
to attacks of the gout at this season — the result pro- 
bably of his revellings with Thomson and others — that 
she thinks it best he should be near skilled advice. 
' Otherwise,'' she continues, ' I confess that a winter 
passed in the country has in it nothing terrible to my 
apprehension. I find our lawns (though at present 
covered with snow) a more agreeable prospect than 
dirty streets, and our sheep-bells more musical than the 
noise of hawkers. I fear my taste is so depraved that 
I am as well pleased while I am distributing tares to 
my pigeons, or barley to my poultry, and to the robin 
redbreasts and thrushes that hop under my window, as 
I shall be when I am playing cards in an assembly, or 

even in the ' The blank which discretion dictated 

in the days when the post-office suffered from political 
curiosity may probably be filled up by the word 
« Court; 

That Lady Hertford's taste was in some respects in 
advance of her age is proved by the regret she expresses 
at the prevailing rage for pulling down venerable castles 
and abbeys, and replacing them by modern Gothic. 
She attributes her unfashionable love of ancient build- 
ings to the fact that she spent her early childhood at 
Longleat, parts of which dated from the reign of Edward 
the Sixth, and which is said to have been the first well- 
built private house erected in England. ' Though I 
was only nine when my father died,"' she continues, ' I 
still remember his lamenting that my grandfather had 
taken down the Gothic windows on the first floor and 
put up sashes, in order to have a better view of his 
garden. As soon as the present Lord Weymouth mar- 
ried and came to live here, he ordered the sashes to be 

27 



LADY HERTFORD AND 

pulled down and the old windows to be restored. I 
flattered myself that this was a good omen of his regard 
for a seat which for two hundred years had been the 
delight and pride of his ancestors. But, alas ! how 
short-lived is human judgment ! Longleat, with its 
gardens, park, and manor, is mortgaged (though its 
owner never plays) to gamesters and usurers for 
£25,000. So that probably in twenty years' time, as 
Mr. Pope says, it may "slide to a scrivener or city 
knight,""' which I must own would mortify me exceed- 
ingly, notwithstanding the assertion of the same author 
that " Whatever is, is right." ' Fortunately this gloomy 
prophecy was not fulfilled ; for Lady Hertford's cousin, 
the second Viscount Weymouth, died in 1751, when 
Longleat descended to his son, afterwards created 
Marquis of Bath. 

A letter from London, dated Christmas Day 1740, 
contains an amusing description of the difficulties of 
social entertainers in the days when party feeling ran 
inordinately high. ' It is so unfashionable to pass this 
season in London,' writes Lady Hertford, ' that the 
streets seem quite depopulated. All the young, the 
gay, and the polite are retired to their villas to serious 
parties of whist and cornette ; and the politicians are 
gone to their several boroughs to make converts and 
drunkards. . . . The Dukes of Queensberry and Bed- 
ford, Lords Holdernesse, Rochford, Conway, Brooke, 
and others set on foot a subscription for a ball once 
a week at Heidegger's rooms. Every subscriber had 
liberty to invite a lady and a married man, and every 
lady was to bring a married woman by way of chaperon. 
For these last there were tables and cards provided, and 
a magnificent supper for the whole company. Monday 
28 



LADY POMFRET 

was the first, and is likely to prove the last ; for the 
day before, the Duchess of Queensberry ^ found it neces- 
sary to desire that my Lord Conway would send word 
to Sir Robert Walpole to keep away, because if he did 
not, neither she nor any of her friends would come. 
My Lord Conway very politely said that he should be 
exceedingly sorry to lose so great an honour and orna- 
ment as she would have been to the entertainment, but 
that neither his good breeding nor his inclination would 
permit him to send so mortifying a message to his uncle. 
An hour or two afterwards she sent word that if Lord 
Conway would undertake for Sir Robert's absence she 
would take care that Mr. Pulteney should also keep 
away. In reply. Lord Conway said that he was so far 
from desiring any such bargain, that he should be ex- 
tremely glad of Mr. Pulteney's company. Her Grace at 
last desisted, and brought herself to endure the sight of 
the minister ; but took care to show that it was so much 
a. contre-coeur as to cast a cloud on the whole assembly. 
This conduct has made the greater part of the sub- 
scribers resolve to withdraw their names and spend no 
more money, since they have no better prospect than 
that of being forced to shock some people and disoblige 
others, when they were only ambitious to amuse.'' 

In the spring of 1741 Lady Pomfret is in Rome, 
painstakingly ' doing "" the sights and ceremonies of the 
Holy City. But she finds time to thank her friend for 
her letters and a copy of original verses with as much 
hyperbole as were ever bestowed upon the alabaster 
vases. ' How agreeable you can make even the disorder 
of factious envy ! ' she exclaims, ' But how much above 
all praise is your verse ! such sentiments ! such language ! 
^ This was, of course, Prior's ' Kitty.' 

29 



LADY HERTFORD AND 

such goodness for me ! I have read it three times over, 
and can now only leave to thank you for it ; but to do 
that no words are sufficient, unless, like you, I could 
make a Clio attend me whenever I pleased ; and were 
that in my power, I do assure you I should think I 
repaid her gifts when I employed them on so noble a 
subject as doing justice to your merit, Avhich you treat 
too lightly.' 

The reader may be curious to see the verses which 
evoked such ecstatic praise. The following lines are a 
characteristic specimen, not only of the poem in question, 
but of Lady Hertford's genius. She is writing of Rich- 
kings, which Lord Bathurst had arranged as a retreat for 
statesmen, poets, and the beauties of the Court : — 

' For such he formed the well-contrived design. 
Nor knew that Fate (perverse) had marked it mine. 
Amazing turn ! Could human eyes foresee 
That Bathurst planted^ schemed, and huilt for me ? 
That he whose genius vast designs engaged, 
Whom business surfeited, and rest enraged. 
Should range those alleys, bend those blooming bow'rs. 
To shelter me in my declining hours ? 

He to whom China's wall would seem a bound 

Too narrow for his thoughts' inclusive round ; 

Who, in the senate, Tully's fame would reach. 

In courts, magnificence to Paris teach ; 

In deep philosophy with Plato vie. 

With Newton, follow meteors through the sky ; 

With gay Demetrius charm (and leave ! ) the fair, 

Yet, with good breeding, shield them from despair. 

Again, I ask, could human eyes foresee 

That such a one should plant and build for me ? 

For me whom Nature soberly designed 

With nothing striking in my face or mind ; 

Just fitted for a plain domestic life, 

A tender parent and contented wife. . . .' 

30 



LADY POMFRET 

Lord Bathurst was evidently an object of interest to 
feminine poets ; for Lady Hertford, in another letter, 
acknowledges the receipt of a poetical epistle to his 
lordship, written by Lady Mary Wortley Montagu. ' It 
is,' she observes, ' a very just picture of my Lord 
Bathurst's importance and pursuits. I begin to fear 
that the air of Richkings is whimsically infectious ; for 
its former owner had scarcely more projects than my 
lord and myself find continually springing up in our 
minds about improvements here. Yesterday I was busy 
in buying paper to furnish a little closet in that house 
where I spend the greatest part of my time ; and what 
will seem more strange, bespeaking a paper ceiling for 
a room which my lord has built in one of the woods. 
The perfection which the manufacture of that conmiodity 
is arrived at in the last few years is surprising. The 
master of the warehouse told me that he is to make 
some paper at the price of twelve or thirteen shillings 
a yard for two different gentlemen. I saw some at four 
shillings, but contented myself with that of only eleven- 
pence, which I think is enough to have it very pretty, 
and I have no idea of paper furniture being very rich. 
I enclose you some verses by Mrs. Carter, who gave them 
to me. She was here the other morning, and surprised 
me with her looks and conversation. The former 
resemble those of Hebe ; the latter has a tendency 
to a little pedantry ; however, she certainly has real 
and extensive learning.' 

Lady Pomfret describes with her usual prolixity, and 
— if Horace Walpole be accepted as a critic — infelicity, 
the Easter ceremonies at Rome ; but more interesting 
is a passing reference to a meeting with a tall, fair 
young man called ' il Principio," who was none other 

31 



LADY HERTFORD AND 

than the Chevalier de St. George alias the Young 
Pretender. Another historical character then living at 
Rome was ' my Lady Nithsdale, who managed so cleverly 
in getting her husband out of the Tower the night before 
he was to have been beheaded. She is now grown very 
old, but has been much of a woman of quality, and is in 
great esteem here." Lord Nithsdale, it will be remem- 
bered, was impeached for treason in 1715, and escaped 
from the Tower in a woman's dress, conveyed to him 
by his wife. 

In March 1741 the Pomfrets set out upon a leisurely 
journey home, stopping a few days at most of the places 
of interest on their route. At Bologna, Lady Pomfret 
was taken to the house of the famous feminine professor, 
Signora Laura Bassi.^ ' She is not yet thirty,' we read, 
' and did not begin to study till she was sixteen, when, 
having a serious illness and being attended by a physician 
who was a man of great learning, he perceived her genius, 
and began to instruct her with such success that she is 
able now to dispute with any person whatever on the 
most sublime points. This she does with so much 
unaffected modesty, and such strength of reason as must 
please all hearers, of which number we were ; for the 
Signora Gozzadini, who is herself very clever and pro- 
digiously obliging, had got two doctors to meet us here. 
With the first, called Beccari [President of the Institute 
of Science and Art at Bologna], she discoursed in Latin 
upon light (for which I was not much the better) ; but 
afterwards Doctor Zanotti [probably Eustachio Zanotti, 
Professor of Astronomy at the University of Bologna], 
with an infinite deal of wit, started a question in Italian, 

* Born in 171 1, took her doctor's degree in 1732, married to Dr. 
Verati in 1748, died in 1778. 

32 



LADY POMFRET 

" Whether we were not in some danger of losing the 
benefit of the moon, since the English had affirmed 
that the sun attracted all planets to itself?"" He 
desired her not to compliment the English, but to 
free him from the fears which their assertions justly 
caused him. I wish I was capable of translating the 
dialogue, for I flatter myself our tastes are so much 
alike that you would no more tire of reading than 
I of hearing it.' 

The correspondents were both, as has been seen, 
keenly interested in the question of feminine learning, 
and there was no clever woman who exercised their 
curiosity more than that intellectual meteor, Lady Mary 
Wortley Montagu. Lady Pomfret had cooled towards 
her to some extent since the visit to Florence, but Lady 
Hertford is again dilating upon her merits about this 
time, in consequence of a perusal of A Week of' Town 
Eclogues. ' There is,' she declares, ' more fire and wit 
in all the writings of that author than one meets with in 
almost any other ; and whether she is in the humour of 
an infidel or a devotee, she expresses herself with so much 
strength that one can hardly persuade oneself she is not 
in earnest on either side of the question. Nothing can 
be more natural than her complaint of the loss of her 
beauty [vide the ' Saturday ' in her Tow?i Eclogues] ; but 
as that was only one of her various powers to charm, I 
should have imagined she would only have felt a very 
small part of the regret that many other people have 
suffered on a like misfortune ; who have nothing but the 
loveliness of their persons to claim admiration ; and con- 
sequently, by the loss of that, have found all their hopes 
of distinction vanish much earlier in life than Lady 
Mary's ; — for if I do not mistake, she was near thirty 
c 33 



LADY HERTFORD AND 

before she had to deplore the loss of beauty greater than 
I ever saw in any face beside her own.' 

Play and inoculation seem to have been the principal 
excitements of the London season of 1741. ' Assemblies 
are now so much in fashion,' we read, ' that most persons 
fancy themselves under a necessity of inviting all their 
acquaintances three or four times to their houses, not in 
small parties, which would be supportable, but they are 
all to come at once ; nor is it enough to engage married 
people, but the boys and girls sit down as gravely to 
whist-tables as fellows of colleges used to do formerly. 
It is actually a ridiculous, though, I think, a mortifying 
sight, that play should become the business of the nation, 
from the age of fifteen to fourscore. . . , (April 13th.) 
Inoculation is more in fashion than ever ; half my 
acquaintances are shut up to nurse their children, grand- 
children, nephews, or nieces. I should be content to 
stay in town upon the same account if I were happy 
enough to see my son desire it, but that is not the 
case, and at his age it must either be a voluntary act 
or left undone.' Lady Hertford's anxiety on her only 
son's account was not unfounded, for only three years 
later he died of smallpox at Bologna on his nineteenth 
birthday. 

Lady Pomfret meanwhile journeyed from Bologna to 
Venice, where she stayed long enough to exhaust all the 
principal sights. Among the ' lions ' interviewed was 
the pastel painter, Rosalba,^ who, says her ladyship, ' is 
now old, but certainly the best, if not the only artist in 
her way. This, her excellence, does not make her the 
least impertinent, her behaviour being as good as her 

^ Rosa Alba Carriera, born in 167 1 at Venice, where she died in 
1757- 

34 



LADY POMFRET 

work/ Several convents were visited, and a curious 
account is given of the non-ascetic manner in which the 
majority of them were conducted at that period. At 
one of these establishments, for example, each nun was 
allowed an apartment and a garden to herself, Avhile 
thei-e was frequent dancing, and even performances of 
operas, though no profane auditors were admitted. The 
vows of celibacy and seclusion were not invariably 
regarded as perpetual, and in certain cases the nuns 
were allowed to go out and take part in the carnivals. 

Lady Pomfret's enjoyment of her stay in Venice was 
spoilt by the news of the death of Lord Aubrey Beau- 
clerk at the battle of Carthagena, her second son being 
on Lord Aubrey's staff. ' This misfortune,'' she writes, 
' leaves my son without a protector, in an unwholesome 
climate, exposed to a thousand dangers besides the 
common ones of his profession, and perhaps to neces- 
sities, it being impossible to remit money to him in his 
present situation ; but God knows whether he is alive 
to want it, for I hear the ship he was in has suffered 
much, and lost many men. I own I am not patriotic 
enough to rejoice at a victory that may have cost me 
so dear ; though could I hear that my child was safe, 
nobody would be better pleased with it than myself.' 

Lady Hertford, on May the 27th, encloses a letter 
from the hero of Carthagena, Admiral Vernon, thinking 
that her friend might like to see the style of a man 
whose actions formed so great a part of the conversation 
of all Europe. ' I own," she remarks, ' that I am pleased 
to find him begin by attributing his success, not to his 
own bravery or conduct, but to the Giver of all victory, 
and praising Him that the English colours are now 
flying on Castillio Grande. However a sense of religion 

• 35 



LADY HERTFORD AND 

may be out of fashion amongst some polite people, it 
certainly adds a great lustre to the characters of any 
persons who are so happy as to act under its influence. 
The lower part of the people have been transported 
beyond measure by what they call an auspicious omen 
— two young lions have been whelped in the Tower on 
the day that the news of the taking of Carthagena 
arrived, and they have been called Vernon and Ogle. 
Yet to prove that the English mob can never be so 
thoroughly pleased as not to have a delight in doing 
mischief, they assembled in vast bodies, and demolished 
every window in London where there were not lights 
for four nights successively. This vengeance fell chiefly 
on empty houses, or on those whose owners were out of 
town ; for everybody else illuminated their rails and 
houses in the greatest profusion. I do not know by 
what accident the Bishop of Oxford and Doctor Pearce 
happened to be out of the way, or not to think of this 
testimony of their joy in time ; but neither of them has 
a pane of glass or a window-frame left in their houses. 
The High Constable of Westminster not only made a 
very great bonfire, but gave a hogshead of strong beer 
at his door. This the mob had no sooner consumed 
than they broke all the windows, and fell to demolishing 
his house in such a manner that if a guard had not 
immediately been sent for, it would have been pulled 
down in about two hours. They had several men in 
the middle of them with great flashets of paving-stones 
ready for the slingers to demolish what was out of their 
reach by throwing with their hands. In short, the 
disorders were so great that the regents have thought it 
necessary to issue a proclamation for the discovery of 
the ringleaders.' It is gratifying to reflect how much 
36 



LADY POMFRET 

the London populace has improved in character between 
the (so-called) victory of Carthagena and the relief of 
Mafeking. 

A glimpse of the fashions of the period is given in a 
letter of Lady Hertford's, dated June 3, 1741, which is 
in answer to an inquiry from Lady Pomfret on that 
subject. ' I must begin by asking your pardon for 
having forgot to answer you in my last about the dress 
of the fashionable young ladies. This, on the whole, is 
neither quite French nor quite English, their hair being 
cut and curled after the mode of the former, and their 
bodies dressed in the way of the latter, though with 
French hoops. Few unmarried women appear abroad 
in robes or sacques, and as few married ones would be 
thought genteel in anything else. I am myself so 
awkward as to be yet unable to use myself to that dress, 
unless for visits of ceremony ; since I do not feel at 
home in my own house without an apron ; nor can 
endure a hoop that would overturn all the chairs and 
stools in my closet.'' To show the minute accuracy of 
Horace Walpole as a chronicler of contemporary trifles, 
the above passage may be compared with a paragraph 
in a letter of his to Sir Horace Mann, dated October 13, 
1741 (just after the Pomfrets' return to England), in 
wl^ich he observes that Lady Sophia Fermor"'s head is 
to be dressed French and her body English, for which 
he is sorry, since her figure is so fine in a robe. It will 
be noted that the fashions had not changed between 
June and October. 

The Pomfrets travelled from Venice over the Tyrol, 
and through Germany to Brussels, where they made a 
long stay. In one of the letters written from Brussels, 
Lady Pomfret describes a visit to Antwerp, where she 

37 



LADY HERTFORD AND 

made the acquaintance of a very remarkable character, 
a Mrs. Blount, sister-in-law of Pope's friend and corre- 
spondent. ' Mrs, Blount,' she relates, ' lives a little way 
out of the city, in a small but convenient house, moated 
round. To this she has a drawbridge that pulls up 
every night. This lady was the daughter of Sir John 
Guise, and was endowed with a most surprising genius, 
which he took care to improve by having her taught 
the Latin, Spanish, Italian, and French languages, all 
of which she is perfect mistress of, as well as all the 
best books in them (!). Music and poetry assisted in 
the completing of her mind ; and love led her choice to 
a younger brother of Sir Walter Blount, whom you may 
remember as often mentioned in Mr. Pope's letters. 
Since the death of this gentleman, and the disposal of 
her daughters, she is retired (with three or four ser- 
vants) to prepare for the next world, and she calls her- 
self the Solitaire. Her dress is plain, and she never 
goes into company ; but if any persons come to her, she 
receives them with the greatest apparent pleasure, and 
with such vivacity and variety of wit that you would 
imagine she was still in the midst of the hemi inonde. 
. . . The oddness of this lady's turn and way of life gave 
many different sentiments to our company. Some of us 
pitied her, and some of us pitied the world for losing 
her ; but all wondered at her except myself, who really 
wonder that no persons ever thought of secluding them- 
selves in this manner before. To be weary of the hurry 
of the world at a certain age, for people of any degree 
of sense, is the most natural thing imaginable ; and no 
longer to seek company when the dearest and best of 
company has left us, is equally conformable to a tender 
heart and strong understanding. But to shut oneself 
38 



LADY POMFRET 

up irrevocably in a prison,^ to torment the body and try 
the constitution, because our minds are already too 
much distressed, is what I cannot so well comprehend ; 
therefore, I confess myself an admirer of Mrs. Blount's 
disposal of her remaining days. Nobody can say or 
imagine that she repents of a retirement which her 
children and friends solicit her every day to leave, and 
which she has no sort of obligation but what arises from 
choice to stay in. Nobody that visits her finds by her 
reception of them that her own thoughts are insupport- 
able to her ; but she rather seems to have been storing 
up entertainment for her guests, which she presents 
with as much readiness, and in as great plenty, as if 
she expected to receive cent, per cent, for it ; whereas 
few are able to return her half the real value.' 

Lady Hertford is charmed with this account of Mrs. 
Blount's mode of living, and quotes the somewhat similar 
case of the Dowager Duchess of St. Albans, who, in her 
declining years, never went outside her house at Windsor, 
though she was always ready to receive visitors at home. 
' It has long been my fixed opinion,' continues her lady- 
ship, ' that in the latter part of life, when the duty to a 
family no longer calls upon us to act on the public stage, 
it is not only more decent, but infinitely more eligible, 
to live in an absolute retirement.' This letter is dated 
from the house at Marlborough, whither the Hertfords 
had retired for the summer months. ' We had the 
finest weather imaginable for our journey,' writes Lady 
Hertford ; ' and though the distance was fifty-nine miles, 
we performed the journey in eleven hours and three- 
quarters, including the time we baited. I never saw 
such an air of plenty as appeared on both sides of the 
* Lady Pomfret means a convent. 

39 



LADY HERTFORD AND 

road, from the vast quantities of corn with which the 
fields are covered, and the addition of many hop-gardens. 
... I find my own garden full of sweets, and I have a 
terrace between a border of pinks and a sweetbriar 
hedge. Whether it is because this was the first habita- 
tion I was mistress of, in those cheerful years when 
everything assumed a smiling aspect from the vivacity 
that attends that season of life ; or because almost 
every little ornament has been made either by my lord's 
or my own contrivance, I cannot tell ; but I certainly 
feel a partiality for this place which an indifferent 
person would be at a loss to account for."* 

An agreeable company was staying in the house, 
among others Lady Hertford's nephew, the diminutive 
Lord Brooke, afterwards created Earl of Warwick. 
The conversation would seem to have been superior in 
quality to that talked in the average country house. 
' An argument was started one night after supper," 
reports the hostess, ' which produced a dialogue of 
above an hour that I secretly wished you had heard, 
because I thought it might give you some entertain- 
ment, being managed on both sides with a great deal of 
wit and politeness. The subject was, " Whether a 
sincere love could subsist where there was not an 
attention paid to the object ? " Two of the company, 
having a particular friendship for a gentleman who has 
lately married a very agreeable woman with a very great 
fortune, who loves him to distraction, thought it neces- 
sary to vindicate their friend, who they say loves her 
extremely though he has not this attention, to prove 
that the truest love was often without it. This 
appeared so paradoxical to Mr. Leslie and a very 
ingenious young clergyman who was present, that it 
40 ' 



LADY POMFRET 

produced a dispute which, could I have written short- 
hand, I should have thought well worth taking down. 
Yet after all that was said, with a great deal of life and 
spirit on both sides, I believe both still retained their 
first opinions, as I confess I did mine ; so that love 
without attention still appears a chimera to me/ 

The Pomfrets were detained at Brussels longer than 
they wished on account of the disturbed state of the 
Continent, and the fact that Spanish privateers were 
patrolling the seas and rendering the passage of non- 
combatants insecure. The last letter from Brussels is 
dated October 6, 1741, and the next day the Pomfrets 
left for England. The correspondence came to an end 
with the meeting of the friends, but the career of Lady 
Pomfret and her beautiful daughters may be traced 
through the gossiping letters of Horace Walpole, while 
there is an occasional allusion to the Hertfords. Lady 
Sophia Fermor returned to England to take up a posi- 
tion as one of the chief beauties of her time, and Walpole 
watches with his usual malicious interest the flirtations 
of the young lady and the ambitions of her mother.^ 
At a ball given by Sir Thomas Robinson in November, 
there were many belles, but Lady Sophia outshone them 
all, though a little out of humour at the scarcity of 
minuets. * However, as usual, she danced more than 
anybody, and as usual, too, took out what men she 
liked, or thought the best dancers. Lord Lincoln ^ and 
Lord Holdernesse were admirers-in-chief, and it was 
generally believed that a match would be arranged with 
the former, but he took fright at the net that seemed 

^ There is a tradition in the Fermor family that Horace was in love with 
the second daughter, afterwards Lady Charlotte Finch. 
'^ Son of the Duke of Newcastle. 

41 



LADY HERTFORD AND 

to be laid for him, and ended by marrying his cousin, 
Miss Pelham.' 

Lady Pomfret is described by Walpole as a sort of 
aristocratic Mrs. Malaprop ; and many of her sayings 
are recorded by him in his letters to Sir Horace Mann, 
who had been well acquainted with her ladyship at 
Florence. Writing on November 23, 1741, Walpole 
observes : ' Lady Townshend told me an admirable 
history ; it is of our friend Lady Pomfret. Somebody that 
belonged to the Prince of Wales said they were going 
to Court ; it was objected that they ought to say, going 
to Carlton House ; that the only Court is where the 
King resides. Lady Pomfret, with her paltry air of 
significant learning and absurdity, said, " Oh, Lord ! is 
there no Court in England but the King's ? Sure there 
are many more ! There is the Court of Chancery, the 
Court of Exchequer, the Court of King's Bench, etc." 
Don't you love her ? Lord Lincoln does her daughter. 
He is come over and met her the other night ; he 
turned pale, spoke to her several times in the evening, 
but not long, and sighed to me at going away.' 
Describing a masquerade given in February 1742, he 
writes : ' Of all extravagant figures, commend me to our 
Countess [of Pomfret]. She and my Lord trudged in like 
pilgrims, with vast staffs in their hands ; and she was so 
heated that you would have thought her pilgrimage had 
been like Pantagruel's voyage to the Oracle of the 
Bottle ! Lady Sophia was in a Spanish dress, so was 
Lord Lincoln ; not to be sure by design, but so it 
happened.' 

The Lincoln affair dragged on for some time longer. 
Lady Mary Wortley, writing to Lady Pomfret in June, 
remarks : ' Apropos of angels, I am astonished Lady 
42 



LADY POMFRET 

Sophia does not condescend to leave some copies of her 
face for the benefit of posterity ; 'tis quite impossible 
she should not command what matches she pleases when 
such pugs as Miss Hamilton ^ become peeresses, and I 
am still of opinion that it depended on her to be my 
relation."* Lady Mary had, of course, numerous relations, 
eligible and otherwise, but she was probably alluding to 
her kinsman. Lord Lincoln. Lady Pomfret in the intervals 
of match-making continued to amuse her friends with 
her preciosity. ' You have no notion," writes Walpole 
in allusion to a story of Mann's, 'how I laughed at the 
man that " talks nothing but Madeira." I told it to 
my Lady Pomfret, concluding that it would divert her 
too, and forgetting that she repines when she should 
laugh, and reasons when she should be diverted. She 
asked gravely what language that was ! " That Madeira 
being subject to an European Prince, to be sure they 
talk some European dialect ! " The grave personage ! 
It was of a piece with her saying " that Swift would 
have written better if he had never written ludicrously.""' 
In November we read : ' The Pomfrets stay in the 
country most of the winter ; Lord Lincoln and Mr. 
George Pitt [an admirer of Lady Charlotte Fermor] 
have declared off in form. So much for the schemes of 
my lady. The Duke of Grafton used to say that they 
put him in mind of a troop of Italian comedians ; Lord 
Lincoln was Valere, Lady Sophia Columbine, and my 
lady the old mother behind the scenes."* 

There is no more mention of the Pomfrets for about 
eighteen months, and then in March 1744 comes the 
announcement : ' Who do you think is going to marry 

^ Daughter of Lord Archibald Hamilton. Married to Lord Brooke in 
May 1742. 

43 



LADY HERTFORD AND 

Lady Sophia Fermor ? — Only my Lord Carteret ! — this 
very week ! — a drawing-room conquest. Do but imagine 
how many passions will be gratified in that family ! Her 
own ambition, vanity, and resentment — love she never 
had any ; the politics, management, and pedantry of 
the mother, who will think to govern her son-in-law 
out of Fro'issart} Figure the instructions she will give 
her daughter ! Lincoln is quite indifferent, and laughs. 
My Lord Chesterfield says, " It is only another of 
Carteret's vigorous measures." I am really glad of it ; 
for her beauty and cleverness deserve a better fate than 
she was on the point of having determined for her for 
ever. How graceful, how charming, and how haughtily 
condescending she will be ! How, if Lincoln should 
ever hint past history, she will 

" Stare upon the strange man's face, 
As one she ne'er had known." ' 

Lord Carteret, afterwards Earl Granville, was at that 
time Secretary of State, the period of his ascendency 
being known as the Drunken Administration. He was 
then fifty -four years of age, with several grown-up 
daughters, and had lost his first wife only nine months 
before. The engagement caused a great sensation in 
society, partly on account of the bridegroom's high 
position, and partly on account of the difference in age 
between the pair. An epigram upon Lady Sophia at 
this time is quoted by Walpole : — 

' Her beauty, like the Scripture feast, 
To which the invited never came. 
Deprived of its intended guest, 
AV^as given to tlie old and lame.' 

^ Lady Pomfret had translated Froissart. 

44 



LADY POMFRET 

The wedding had to be deferred because, to quote a 
letter of Mrs. Delany's, who was a cousin of the bride- 
groom, ' Lord Carteret has hurried Lady Sophia's spirits 
into a scarlet fever, and she was in great danger for 
twenty-four hours; and she has thrown him into the 
gout, with which he has been confined this week.' The 
jointure was fixed at sixteen hundred pounds a year, and 
the pin-money at four hundred, while there were to be 
two thousand pounds' worth of jewels. The couple 
corresponded every day, Lord Carteret reading his lady's 
letters to the Cabinet Council. 

The marriage seems to have been a happy one for the 
short time it lasted. Lord Carteret made up for what 
he jacked in youth by his brilliant parts, his high 
spirits, his overflowing vitality, and his devotion to his 
young bride ; while she, clever, cold-hearted, and ambi- 
tious, was more than satisfied. We hear of the pair at 
Ranelagh, where they are all fondness — walk together, 
and stop every five minutes to kiss. We meet the 
bride and her mother at Knapton's, the fashionable 
crayon artist. Lady Carteret is drawn crowned with 
corn, like the goddess of plenty, and a mild dove in her 
arms like Venus. ' We had much of ??^^/ Lo7'd and m7/ 
Lord,'' says Walpole. ' The Countess-mother (Lady 
Pomfret) was glad my Lord was not there — he was never 
satisfied with the eyes ; she was afraid he would have 
had them drawn bigger than the cheeks.' On Novem- 
ber 9, we read that ' the new Lady Granville [Lord 
Carteret had just succeeded to the Earldom] was at home 
the other night for the first time. I was invited, for I 
am much in favour with them all, but found myself 
extremely deplacc : there was nothing but the Winchil- 
seas and Baths, and the gleanings of a party stuffed out 

45 



LADY HERTFORD AND 

into a faction, and the whole blood of Fermor."' Lady 
Pom fret in the course of conversation remarked that 
Horace's conduct in respect to a certain action had been 
* very ministerial^ an awkward word, it was felt, to apply 
just then to the son of a newly-fallen minister, but 
pronounced by the Queen-mother, says Walpole, ' with 
all the importance with which she was used to blunder 
out pieces of heathen mythology.'' 

Three weeks later Lord Granville himself had fallen, 
driven from office by the jealousy of the Pelhams. From 
that time, according to Macaulay, his lordship re- 
linquished all ambitious hopes, and retired laughing to 
his books and his bottle. ' No statesman ever enjoyed 
a success with so exquisite a relish, or submitted to 
defeat with so genuine and unforced a cheerfulness." 
His wife and her mother were not so happy ; indeed, 
they are said to have felt bitter mortification at the 
failure of all their ambitions. ' However,"* writes AVal- 
pole, ' the daughter carries it off' heroically ; the very 
night of her fall she went to the Oratorio. I talked to 
her much, and recollected all that had been said to me 
upon the like occasion three years ago ; I succeeded, 
and am invited to her assembly next Tuesday."' The 
poor beauty "'s short but brilliant career was nearly over. 
There are a few allusions to the expectation of a young 
Carteret, and the delighted importance of the Countess- 
mother ; then the news of the birth of a daughter in 
September; and finally, in a letter dated October 11, 
1745, we read the melancholy conclusion of the story ; — 

' Before I talk of any public news, I must tell you what 

you will be very sorry for — Lady Granville is dead. She 

had a fever for six weeks before her lying in, and could 

never get it off". Last Saturday they called in another 

46 



LADY POMFRET 

physician, Doctor Oliver, and on Monday he pronounced 
her out of danger. About seven in the evening, as 
Lady Pomfret and Lady Charlotte (Fermor) were sitting 
by her, the first notice they had of her immediate 
danger was her sighing and saying, " I feel death come 
very fast upon me ! " She repeated the same words 
frequently, remained perfectly in her senses and calm, 
and died about eleven at night. Her mother and 
sister sat by her till she was cold. It is very shocking 
for anybody so young, so handsome, so arrived at the 
height of happiness, so sensible of it, and on whom all 
the joy and grandeur of her family depended, to be so 
quickly snatched away. Poor Uguccioni ! ^ he will be 
very sorry and simple about it.^ 

Lady Pomfret's grief at the death of Lady Granville 
was probably somewhat softened by the marriage, in 
1746, of her second daughter, Lady Charlotte, to 
William Finch, brother and heir of Lord Winchelsea. 
Lady Charlotte afterwards held the post of governess to 
the children of George in., and is said to have acquitted 
herself admirably in her difficult and responsible task. 
The fourth daughter. Lady Juliana, married Thomas 
Penn, son of the famous William Penn, and one of the 
proprietors of Pennsylvania. In 1753 Lord Pomfret 
died, and was succeeded by his ne'er-do-weel son. Lord 
Lempster. ' The Countess," says Walpole, ' has two 
thousand pounds a year rent-charge for jointure, five 
hundred as lady of the bedchamber to the late Queen, 
and fourteen thousand pounds in money, in her own 
power — what a fund for follies ! The new Earl has 
about two thousand four hundred a year, but deep 
debts and post-obits. . . . There are rents worth ten 
^ A Florentine admirer, who afterwards wrote an Elegy on her. 

47 



LADY HERTFORD AND 

thousand pounds left to little Lady Sophia Carteret, 
and the whole personal estate between the two un- 
married daughters, so the seat (Easton Neston) must be 
stripped. . . . The statues, which were part of the 
Arundel collection, are famous, but few good." 

These statues had been bought from Lord Arundel 
by Sir William Fermor, father of Lord Pomfret. At 
the Easton Neston sale they were purchased by Lady 
Pomfret, who was not on terms with her son. Wal- 
pole, in a letter to Mann, dated March 10, 1755, says : 
' If you are there [at Rome] when you receive this, pray 
make my Lady Pomfrefs compliments to the statues in 
the Capitol, and inform them that she has purchased 
her late lord's collection of statues, and presented them 
to the University of Oxford. The present Earl, her son, 
is grown a speaker in the House of Lords, and makes 
comparisons between Julius Caesar and the watchmen of 
Bristol, in the same style as he compared himself [or 
rather his debts] to Cerberus, who, when he had his head 
cut off, three others sprang up in its room.'' 

A year later, in July 1756, we learn from the same 
authority that ' our old friend the Countess has ex- 
hibited herself lately to the public exactly in a style you 
would guess. Having given her lord's statues to the 
University of Oxford, she has been there at the public 
act to receive adoration. A box was built for her near 
the Vice-Chancellor, where she sat for three days to- 
gether for four hours at a time, to hear verses and 
speeches, and to hear herself called Minerva ; nay, the 
public orator had prepared an encomium on her beauty, 
but being struck with her appearance, had presence of 
mind to whisk his compliments to the beauties of her 
mind. Do but figure her ; her dress had all the tawdry 
48 



LADY POMFRET 

poverty and frippery with which you remember her, . . . 
It is amazing that she did not mash a few words of 
Latin, as she used to Jricassee French and Italian ! or 
that she did not torture some learned simile, like her 
comparing the tour of Sicily, the surrounding a triangle, 
to squaring the circle ; or as when she said it was as 
difficult to get into an Italian coach as for Caesar to 
take Attica, which she meant for Utica.'' 

In December 1761 Lady Pomfret died suddenly 
while on a journey to Bath. She was buried at 
Easton Neston ; but a ' neat cenotaph ' in the University 
Church of Oxford commemorates her virtues and accom- 
plishments in sonorous Latin phrases, which would have 
given her intense satisfaction and delight could she have 
been alive to read — and misconstrue — them. 

To return to Lady Hertford. There is extant a little 
volume of manuscript letters addressed by her to Lady 
Luxborough,^ Shenstone's patroness, between 1742 and 
1754, from which we may gain a glimpse into her life 
after the discontinuance of her correspondence with 
Lady Pomfret. 

In September 1742 Lady Hertford writes: ' I have 
not seen Thomson almost these three years. He keeps 
company with scarce any one but Hallett and one or 
two players, and indeed hardly anybody else will keep 

^ Lady Luxborough was half-sister of Lord Bolingbroke. Some letters 
of hers were published in a collection of Shenstone's correspondence. 
Horace Walpole says that she was 'a high-coloured lusty black woman, 
who was parted from her husband upon a gallantry she had with Parson 
Dalton (chaplain to the Duchess of Somerset), the reviver of " Comus." ' 
Lady Luxborough, he continues, ' retired into the country, corresponded 
as you see by her letters with the small poets of that time ; but having no 
Theseus among them, consoled herself, it is said, like Ariadne, with 
Bacchus.' 

D 49 



LADY HERTFORD AND 

company with him. He turns day into night, and 
night into day, and is (I am told) never awake till after 
midnight, and I doubt has quite drowned his genius/ 
Evidently Thomson's former patroness had never quite 
forgiven him for neglecting to correct her poems in order 
to carouse with her lord. 

The death of the Hertfords' only son, Lord Beau- 
champ, in 1744, was a terrible blow to his mother, and 
henceforward her letters are full of allusion to her loss. 
Walpole, in chronicling the event, observes that if the 
parents were out of the question, no one would be sorry 
for such a mortification to the pride of old Somerset, 
Lord Hertford's father. ' He has written the most 
shocking letter imaginable to Lord Hertford, telling 
him that it is a judgment on him for his undutifulness, 
and that he must always look upon himself as the cause 
of his son's death. Lord Hertford is as good a man as 
lives, and has always been most unreasonably used by 
that old tyrant. The title of Somerset will revert to Sir 
Edward Seymour, whose line has been most unjustly 
deprived of it since the first creation.' 

In a letter to Lady Luxborough, written a year after 
her son's death, Lady Hertford says that she has been to 
town to show herself at St. James's, and has had some fine 
clothes for the occasion; 'but, alas! you may guess how un- 
suitably they sate upon me, as I had till that time (though 
a month beyond the year from the sad time when I put it 
on) worn a dress much better suited to the sentiments 
of my heart, which must ever labour under its irrepar- 
able misfortune. The King was obliging to the last 
degree; but the compassion which his good-nature made 
him feel for me was so visible, both in his looks and in 
the alteration it occasioned in the tone of his voice, that 
50 



LADY POMFRET 

it was impossible for me to restrain my tears till he had 
done speaking to me. There was a great crowd, hut I 
had so thicJc a mist before my eyes the ivhole time that I 
dorit Jcnoza how anybody xvas dressed.'' 

The old Duke of Somerset died unregretted in 1748, 
and Lady Hertford was transformed into the Duchess 
of Somerset. Her only surviving child. Lady Betty, 
married a Yorkshire baronet, Sir Hugh Smithson, whose 
grandfather was said to have either let or driven 
stage-coaches. A part of the great Northumberland 
estates, and the Percy barony, descended to Lady Betty, 
her grandmother, the proud Duke of Somerset's first 
wife, having been the heiress of the house of Percy. 
Rather to the scandal of society, Sh' Hugh was created 
successively Earl and Duke of Northumberland, and is 
reported to have given himself all the airs of a genuine 
Percy. On the death of Lady Hertford's husband in 
1749, the Dukedom of Somerset passed to Sir Edward 
Seymour, the representative of the elder branch of the 
family, while Francis Seymour, Lord Conway, was created 
Earl of Hertford. 

Lady Hertford, now Dowager-Duchess of Somerset, 
lived quietly during the five years of her widowhood at 
Richkings, the name of which house had been changed 
to Percy Lodge. She still kept up with the literature 
of her day. ' Have you met,' she asks Lady Lux- 
borough, ' with two little volumes which contain four 
contemplations written by a Mr. James Hervey,^ a young 
Cornish or Devonshire clergyman ? The subjects are 
upon walking upon the tombs, upon a flower-garden, 
upon night, and upon the starry heavens. There is 

^ Hervey's Meditations among the Tombs appeared in 1745, ^"^ his 
Contemplations in 1747. 

51 



LADY HERTFORD AND 

something poetical and truly pious in them. ... I have 
been very well entertained lately with the two first 
volumes of The Fowulling \^Tom Jo7ies\^ written by 
Mr. Fielding, but not to be published till January 
(1749). If the same spirit runs through the whole 
work, I think it will be much preferable to Joseph 
Andrews.'' 

In 1753 the Duchess sends a message through Lady 
Luxborough to Shenstone, thanking him for the honour 
he had done her in inscribing his Ode upon Rural 
Elegance to her, and continues : ' I am persuaded he is 
master of the subject, for I have heard from people who 
saw his gardens not long ago that they are the most 
perfect models of it. I hope you will prevail on Mr. 
Shenstone to let me see his Ode.' After she had read 
the poem, the Duchess wrote to Shenstone (with whom 
she was not personally acquainted) begging him to insert 
stars or dashes wherever her name or that of Percy 
Lodge was mentioned in it, observing ; ' The world in 
general, since they can find no fault with your poem, 
will blame the choice of the person to whom it is 
addressed, and draw mortifying comparisons between the 
ideal lady and the real one.' These alterations may 
have been made at the time, but in Shenstone's pub- 
lished works the names appear in full. A verse or two 
from the Ode to Rural Elegance may here be quoted 
as a specimen of the complimentary poetry of a period 
when the poet's chief hope of pecuniary reward rested 
upon aristocratic patronage. Shenstone celebrates the 
Duchess's encouragement of the fine arts in the lines : — 

' And tho' by faithless friends alarmed, 
Art have with Nature waged presumptuous war ; 
By Seymour's winning influence charmed, 
52 



LADY POMFRET 

In whom their gifts united shine. 

No longer shall their counsels jar. 

'Tis her to mediate the peace ; 

Near Percy Lodge, with awestruck mien. 

The rebel seeks her awful queen. 

And havoc and contention cease. 

I see the rival powers combine. 

And aid each other's fair design ; 

Natui-e exalt the mound where art shall build ; 

Art shape the gay alcove, while Nature paints the field. 

Begin, ye songsters of the grove ! 

O warble forth your noblest lay ! 

Whei-e Somerset vouchsafes to rove. 

Ye leverets, freely sport and play. 

— Peace to the strepent horn ! 

Let no harsh dissonance disturb the morn. 

No sounds inelegant and rude 

Her sacred solitudes prophane ! 

Unless her candour not exclude 

The lonely shepherd's votive strain. 

Who tunes his reed amidst his rural cheer. 

Fearful, yet not averse, that Somerset should hear.' 

The Duchess survived this ode (which scarcely reaches 
the level of her own verse) just four years, dying in 
1754 at the age of fifty-five. She was buried in St. 
Nicholas' Chapel, Westminster Abbey. For several 
years after the publication of Lady Hertford's and Lady 
Pomfrefs correspondence, the two friends were held up 
to young people as models of virtue, culture, and refine- 
ment ; and it must have come as a sensible shock to many 
excellent people when the bubble of their pretensions 
was pricked by Horace Walpole, and they were exhibited 
as two well-meaning ladies with a tendency to talk and 
write upon subjects which they did not altogether 
understand. 

53 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

(1732-1811) 
PART I 

Richard Cumberland, playwright, novelist, poet, essayist, 
and editor, civil servant and amateur diplomatist, belongs 
to that numerous body of authors who have had to pay 
for temporary popularity by permanent neglect. His 
comedies have not held the stage like those of his con- 
temporaries, Sheridan and Goldsmith ; his novels are no 
longer read like those of his model, Henry Fielding; 
his Observer essays have not become a classic like the 
Spectator and the Rambler ; his poems are dead ; his 
pamphlets are forgotten ; and even his delightful Memoirs 
have hardly taken the place they deserve in the bio- 
graphical literature of his period. Yet this last book 
is a veritable human document, the confessions of an 
original character, the candid record of an eventful life. 
The intimate friend of Johnson, Boswell, Garrick, and 
Reynolds, who was commemorated as the ' Terence of 
England ' by Goldsmith, and caricatured as Sir Fretful 
Plagiary by Sheridan, who lived to edit a rival to the 
Quarterly Review^ and to appoint the poet Rogers as his 
executor, — is not this a man worth listening to when he 
chooses to gossip to us of his works, his friendships, his 
adventures and experiences? 

57 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

Of one fact the reader of the MemoiTS is speedily convinced, 
namely, that the author of them missed his true vocation 
in life. The great-grandson of Dr. Richard Cumberland,^ 
appointed Bishop of Peterborough in 1691, and author 
of a learned refutation of the tenets of Hobbes ; and 
grandson, on the maternal side, of that giant of criticism 
and controversy, Dr. Richard Bentley, Master of Trinity, 
young Cumberland seems to have had a congenital in- 
clination towards a life of learned ease, secluded by 
college or cloister walls from the noise and bustle of the 
outside world. He would have been happy could he 
have spent his days in a quiet study, editing some obscure 
Greek author, or preparing erudite theological pamphlets 
wherein to crush a heretic bishop or cross swords with a 
wire-drawing metaphysician. But this was not to be. 
The world claimed the would-be recluse, and the earnest 
student fell a prey to politicians and the theatrical 
public. 

Cumberland, who was born at Trinity Lodge in 1732, 
draws an unexpectedly attractive portrait of his famous 
grandfather, for ' Slashing Bentley with his desperate 
hook' was longsuffering with children, advocated the 
answering of their incessant questions, and patiently 
interpreted their first attempts at reasoning. ' When 
I was rallied by my mother for roundly asserting that 
I never slept,"* says his grandson, 'I remember full well 
his calling me to account for it ; and when I explained 
myself by saying that I never knew myself to be asleep, 
and therefore supposed I never slept, he gave me credit 
for my defence, and said to my mother, " Leave the boy 
in possession of his opinion ; he has as clear a concep- 

^ A college friend of Samuel Pepys. The diarist was anxious that 
Cumberland should marry his sister 'Poll.' 

58 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

tion of sleep, and at least as comfortable a one, as the 
philosophers who puzzle their brains about it, and do not 
rest so well."'' The good doctor showed perhaps more 
zeal than judgment when he took down picture-books 
from his shelves in order to amuse his grandchildren, 
these books containing for the most part anatomical 
drawings of dissected bodies, and proving, we may 
believe, a fruitful source of nightmare. 

Bentley's daughter and Cumberland's mother, Joanna, 
was the Phoebe of Byrom's pretty pastoral, written when 
the poet was a student at Trinity College, and first 
printed in the Spectator. The poem begins : — 

' My time, O ye Muses, was happily spent 
When Phoebe went with me wherever I went. 
Ten thousand sweet pleasures I felt in my breast : 
Sure never fond shepherd like Colin was blest. 
But now she is gone and has left me behind. 
What a marvellous change on a sudden I find ! 
When things were as fine as could possibly be, 
I thought 'twas the spring, but, alas ! it was she.' 

Joanna was no unworthy specimen of the Bentley 
stock. ' All that son can owe to parent or disciple to 
teacher, I owe to her,' says Richard, as so many other 
successful men have said of their mothers. ' She had a 
vivacity of fancy and a strength of intellect in which few 
men were her superiors; she read much, remembered well, 
and discerned acutely; I never knew the person who could 
better embellish any subject she was upon, or render com- 
mon incidents more entertaining by the happy art of re- 
lating them. . . . Though strictly pious, there was no 
gloom in her religion, and she possessed the happy faculty 
of making every doctrine pleasant and every duty sweet.' 

Richard Cumberland the elder, for many years Rector 

59 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

of Stanwick in Northamptonshire, was, one suspects, 
scarcely so highly endowed in intellect as his wife, but 
we are assured that ' in moral piety he was truly a 
Christian, in generosity and honour he was perfectly a 
gentleman."" With two such parents it seems a pity that 
young Richard should have been sent off to a school at 
Bury St. Edmunds when only six years old. He con- 
fesses that for some time he was supremely idle, and 
always at the bottom of his class. But being publicly 
lectured on his iniquities by the headmaster, and asked 
what sort of report he could expect to have sent to his 
grandfather Bentley, he at once set to work in good 
earnest, and, quickly rising to the top of each class in 
turn, presently became the head boy of the school, which 
proud position he held against all competitors. The 
holidays were generally spent at Cambridge ; but when 
at home the boy used to go out hunting with his father, 
both being admirably mounted. Mr. Cumberland shared 
a pack of harriers with a neighbouring gentleman, and 
was himself a first-rate horseman. 

' In my first attendance on him to the field,' observes 
Richard, ' the joys of hunting scarcely compensated for 
the terrors I sometimes felt in following him upon a 
racing galloway whose attachment to her leader was such 
as left me no option as to the pace I would go or the 
leaps I wished to take.' 

At home the boy read aloud the best authors to his 
mother, thus early acquiring a taste for literature, and 
more especially for the works of Shakespeare. ' The 
comments and illustrations of Bentley 's daughter were 
such aids to a pupil in poetry as few could have given. 
With all her father's critical acumen she could trace 
and teach me to unravel all the meanders of the poet's 
GO 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

metaphor, and point out where it illuminated, and where 
it only obscured the text/ In his twelfth year Richard 
composed a kind of cento in blank verse, called Shake- 
speare in the Shades., in which some of the poet's 
characters plead their cause before him in Elysium, and 
have judgment passed upon them. Speeches from the 
plays are ingeniously woven into the texture of the work, 
which was an extraordinary production for a twelve- 
year-old schoolboy. 

From Bury St. Edmunds Richard was sent to West- 
minster, and, unlike most boys, speaks of the school, the 
masters, and his fellow-pupils in the most glowing terms. 
There was a high standard of scholarship in the school ; 
and his Latin verses, which at Bury had been thought to 
contain too much 'fancy,' here found appreciative notice. 
A court of honour was held among the boys, to which 
every member of the community was amenable, Dr. 
Nichols having the art of making all his scholars gentle- 
men. A first visit to the play was a great event in the 
life of a boy who had already tried his hand at dramatic 
writing. Richard was lucky enough to see Lothario 
acted by the chief stars of the time — Mrs. Gibber, Quin, 
and Garrick. The actress, we are told, recited Rowe's lines 
in the manner of an improvisatore, while Quin rolled out 
his heroics with little variety of tone. ' But when after 
long and eager expectation I first beheld little Garrick,^ 
then young, and light, and active in every muscle and 
every feature, come bounding on the stage, heavens, what a 
change ! It seemed as if a whole century had been stept 
over in the transition of a single scene. This heaven- 
born actor was then struggling to emancipate his audience 

1 This must have been about 1744-45, when Garrick, who was born in 
17 16, would be under thirty. 

61 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

from the slavery they were resigned to ; and though at 
times he succeeded in throwing some light upon them, 
yet in general they seemed to love darkness better than 
light; 

Cumberland condescends to but few dates in the 
course of his story ; but we know when we have reached 
the year 1745 by the fact that the Scottish rebels were 
marching through England, and had got as far south 
as Derby. The outlook was a gloomy one ; but that 
muscular Christian, the Rector of Stanwick, assembled 
his neighbours and persuaded them to turn out in 
defence of their country. At the expense merely of the 
enlisting shillings, he raised two full companies of a 
hundred each, and marched them to Northampton, 
where he was received with shouts and acclamations by 
the populace. Lord Halifax, who was to command the 
regiment, insisted upon bestowing one of the companies 
on Richard, who, however, was too young to take up the 
commission. Many of the recruits afterwards lost their 
lives at the siege of Carlisle, and the distress in which 
their families were left brought a considerable and lasting 
charge upon Mr. Cumberland. 

In the following year the Cumberlands paid a visit to 
London, where their eldest daughter, Joanna, a girl of six- 
teen, fell a victim to confluent smallpox. The shock of 
this event, and the abhorrence of London aroused by it 
in the father's mind, determined him to remove his son 
from Westminster, and, though the boy was only in his 
fourteenth year, to enter him at Trinity College, Cam- 
bridge. During his first two years at the University, 
Richard was entirely neglected by his tutors, and amused 
himself in his own fashion with his favourite authors, 
and an occasional ride into the country. In his third 
62 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

year, however, he was turned over to more conscientious 
tutors, and urged to work for his degree. Determined 
to make up for lost time, he now allowed himself only 
six hours' sleep, lived almost entirely on milk, and 
' frequently used the cold bath.' By the help of this 
discipline he mastered the best treatises on mechanics, 
optics, and astronomy, worked out all his propositions in 
Latin, and acquired great facility in expounding and 
arguing in that language. He also entered for the 
public exercises, keeping two acts and two opponencies 
in the year, and triumphing over all his adversaries. 
After going in for his B,A. examination he collapsed, as 
might have been expected, and lay between life and 
death for the best part of six months. His convalescence 
was cheered by the news of the high station he had been 
adjudged among the wranglers of his year, and he felt 
that at last he had conquered a position of ease and 
credit in his college, his chief object at this time being 
to follow his learned ancestors in their profession, and 
not to fall behind them in their fame. In the course of 
three years he had every reason to expect a fellowship ; 
and quite content vvith his prospects, he returned to 
college, where he began to form a Collectanea of his 
studies, and with youthful modesty contemplated writing 
a Universal History ! 

But Fate had very different intentions with regard to 
him. At a recent general election Mr. Cumberland had 
given his active support to the Whig candidate for 
Derby ; and Lord Halifax, then Lord-Lieutenant of the 
county, wishing to make some return for his services, 
offered his private secretaryship to the energetic parson's 
son. This offer, with all it might be supposed to lead 
to, was considered too good to be refused ; and after 

63 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

another term at Cambridge, Richard went to London to 
take up his duties, though his post seems to have been 
little more than a sinecure. He was, he tells us, quite 
unfitted for dependence, had studied books, not men, and 
asked nothing better than to be left in his learned 
seclusion. ' With a head filled with Latin and Greek,' 
he continues, ' and a heart left behind me in college, I 
was completely out of my element. I saw myself unlike 
the people about me, and was embarrassed in circles 
which, according to the manners of those days, were 
not to be approached without a set of ceremonies and 
manoeuvres not very pleasant to perform, and when 
awkwardly practised not very interesting to behold.'' 

Lord Halifax,^ then President of the Board of Trade, 
is described as a fine classical scholar, as well as a model 
of all the graces. He was married to Miss Dunk, a 
great heiress and most exemplary lady ; and as long as 
she lived Richard seems to have got on fairly well with 
his patron, though he was not intrusted with much con- 
fidential employment. It is evident that he was not 
happy in the career that had thus been thrust upon him. 
He still lived a sequestered life ; and though he had 
plenty of opportunities of advancement, never turned 
them to his own advantage. In the recess he went to 
Cambridge for his final examination, and was elected a 
Fellow of Trinity. Now was his time to have broken off 
his connection with Lord Halifax and returned to his 
chosen walk in life. But fearing to disappoint his 
family, he let the chance slip, and settled down again in 
London, where he published a churchyard elegy which 

^ Born in 1716, died in 1771. He earned the title of the Father of 
the Colonies. 

64 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

failed to interest the public, and contemplated an epic 
poem on India. 

The death of Lady Halifax in 1753 was a misfortune 
for her whole household, and little short of a disaster 
for her husband. ' About this time,' to use our hero's 
own method of dating events, Mr. Cumberland the 
elder exchanged the living of Stanwick, which he had 
held for thirty years, for that of Fulham, in order that 
he might be near his son. In the adjoining village 
of Hammersmith, Bubb Dodington, afterwards Lord 
Melcombe, had a splendid villa, which for some reason 
best known to himself he was pleased to call ' La 
Trappe.' Young Cumberland made the acquaintance 
of this distinguished neighbour, and became a frequent 
visitor at his house. In the summer of 1756, when 
Lord Halifax had thrown up his office in consequence of 
a squabble with the Duke of Newcastle, Richard, now 
the ex-secretary of an ex-statesman, was glad to accept 
Dodington's invitation to stay at Eastbury, his country- 
house in Dorsetshire. Our hero had a pretty touch in 
character-drawing, and he gives an amusing sketch of 
the eccentricities of his host. 

The future Lord Melcombe had a brilliant wit, 
and was an elegant Latin scholar, but he dearly loved 
a lord, and Lord Bute was the god of his idolatry. 
He kept up great state at Eastbury, we are told, though 
at less cost than could have been done by most men. 
His salon was hung with the finest Gobelin ; and he 
slept in a bed encanopied with peacocks' feathers. 
His wardrobe was loaded with rich and flaring suits 
of past dates, but he contrived never to put his old 
dresses out of countenance by any variation in the 
fashion of the new. Pictures he only estimated by their 
E ' 65 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

cost, and he possessed none himself ; but he told his 
guest that if he had half a score worth a thousand 
pounds a-piece, he would gladly decorate his rooms with 
them. In the absence of works of art, however, ' he 
had stuck up immense patches of gilt leather, shaped 
into bugle-horns, upon hangings of rich crimson velvet ; 
and round his state-bed he displayed a carpet of gold 
and silver embroidery which glaringly betrayed its deriva- 
tion from coat, waistcoat, or breeches, by the testimony 
of pockets, loops, and button-holes ! ' 

It was Dodington's custom to entertain his company 
with reading aloud in the evening, and in this art he 
excelled. His selections, however, were more curious 
than appropriate ; for he treated his feminine guests, 
among whom were Lady Hervey^ and the Dowager 
Lady Stafford, with the whole of Jonathan Wild., in 
which choice he consulted his own turn for irony rather 
than theirs for elegance, but the old ladies were polite 
enough to be pleased, or at any rate to appear so. 
Cumiserland was shown the famous, or rather the infamous 
Diary ; and being asked what he would do with it if it 
were left to his discretion, instantly replied that he 
would destroy it, whereat the writer was obviously 
disgusted. A more attractive work was a manuscript 
collection of witticisms, of which Dodington was part 
author, part compiler. With this he was accustomed to 
refresh his memory when he expected to meet any man 
of conspicuous wit or conversational talent. 

' During my stay at Eastbury,"* writes Cumberland, 
' we were visited by the late Mr. Henry Fox ^ and Mr. 



Mary Lepel, widow of John, Lord Hervey. 
Afterwards the first Lord Holland. 



GG 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

Alderman Beckford ;^ the solid good sense of the former, 
and the dashing loquacity of the latter, formed a strik- 
ing contrast between the characters of these gentlemen. 
To Mr. Fox our host paid all that courtly homage which 
he knew so well how to time and where to apply ; to 
Beckford he did not observe the same attentions, but in 
the happiest flow of his raillery and wit combated this 
intrepid talker with admirable effect. It was an inter- 
lude truly comic and amusing. Beckford, loud, voluble, 
self-sufficient, and galled by hits that he could not 
parry, and probably did not expect, laid himself more 
and more open in the vehemence of his argument ; Dod- 
ington, lolling in his chair in perfect apathy and self- 
command, dozing and even snoring at intervals in his 
lethargic way, broke out every now and then into such 
gleams and flashes of wit and irony, as by the contrast 
of his phlegm with the other's loquacity made his 
humour irresistible, and set the table in a roar."' 

On his return to town Cumberland wrote his first 
legitimate drama. The Banishment of Cicero. Although 
he was not, as he confesses, very happy in the choice of 
a subject, the play was read and praised by Lord Halifax 
and by Dr. Warburton. The former proposed to take 
it to Garrick, who was then living at Hampton, and 
recommend it to him for representation. Patron and 
secretary accordingly bearded the manager in his own 
home ; but Cumberland was quick to perceive the embar- 
rassment which the introduction of his manuscript occa- 
sioned, and recognised that his cause was desperate, 
though his advocate continued sanguine, and Garrick 
promised an attentive perusal. 'But those tell-tale 
features, so miraculously gifted in the art of assumed 
^ Father of the author of Vatliek, and twice Lord Mayor of London. 

67 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

emotions, could not mask their real ones, and I had 
no expectation of my play being accepted.' A day or 
two later Garrick returned the manuscript with many 
apologies to his lordship for his inability to use it, and 
a few qualifying words to its author, which, as Cumber- 
land admits, was as much as could be expected from 
him, though it did not satisfy the patron of the play, who 
warmly resented this non-compliance with his wishes, 
and for a length of time forbore to live in his former 
habits of good neighbourhood with Garrick, Poor 
Garrick ! how often in his career must he have had to 
choose between offending a powerful patron and boring 
his public ! 

In February 1759, on his twenty-seventh birthday, 
Cumberland was married to his cousin, Elizabeth Ridge. 
He had previously obtained a small place as Crown 
Agent for the colony of Nova Scotia, worth two hundred 
a year, which in addition to his own means was con- 
sidered just sufficient to support a modest establishment, 
until such time as Lord Halifax came into place again. 
Upon the death of George ii. in the following year, all 
eyes were turned upon the favourite. Lord Bute. With 
his accession to power. Lord Halifax obtained the Lord- 
Lieutenancy of Ireland, and prepared to open his 
Majesty's first Parliament in that country. The vicar 
of Fulham was appointed one of the chaplains, with a 
prospect of a mitre later on, while Richard obtained 
places for two of his brothers-in-law. He was dis- 
appointed at only receiving the Ulster Secretaryship for 
his own share, ' Single-speech ' Hamilton having nego- 
tiated himself into the office of Chief Secretary. Leaving 
his two children with their grandmother Ridge in Eng- 
land, Cumberland sailed for Ireland in 1761 with his 
68 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

wife and parents, and established his family in a house 
at Dublin. 

He had taken leave of his friend Dodington, now 
Lord Melcombe, the day before the Coronation, and had 
found him before a iooking-fflass in his new robes, 
practising attitudes, and debating within himself upon 
the most graceful mode of carrying his coronet in the 
procession. ' He was in high glee with his fresh 
and blooming honours, and I left him in the act of 
dictating a billet to Lady Hervey, apprising her that a 
young lord was coming to throw himself at her feet."* 
At this time Cumberland's uncle, Richard Bentley, was 
patronised by Lord Melcombe as a man likely to do 
good service to the party with his pen. Bentley is now 
chiefly remembered as the friend and correspondent of 
Horace Walpole, with whom, as Cumberland said, he 
carried on for a long time a sickly kind of friendship, 
which had in it too much of the bitter of dependence to 
be gratifying to the taste of a man of spirit and sensi- 
bility. The friendship, however, had its hot fits and 
cold fits, and in one of the former Walpole writes : ' I 
adore Mr. Bentley; he has more sense, judgment, and wit, 
more taste and more misfortunes than sure ever met in 
any man. I have heard that Dr. Bentley, regretting his 
want of taste for all such learning as his, which is the 
very want of taste, used to sigh and say " Tully had his 
Marcus." '' 

Unfortunately, Bentley was an unpractical genius, 
whose debts, together with an unsatisfactory wife, kept 
him in constant hot water. In June 1761, however, 
fortune seemed to smile upon him. He wrote a clever, 
though unequal comedy, with a political motifs called 
The Three Wishes, which Walpole heard Lord 

69 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

Melcombe read aloud in a circle at Lady Hervey's. 
' Cumberland,' writes Horace, ' had carried it to him 
(Lord Melcombe) with a recommendatory copy of verses, 
containing more incense to the King and my Lord Bute 
than the Magi brought in their portmanteaux to Jeru- 
salem. The idols were propitious. A banknote of 
£200 was sent from the Treasury to the author, and 
the play was ordered to be performed by the summer 
company.' The ]Vtshes was acted at Drury Lane by 
Foote, Murphy, and O'Brien ; but though Lord Halifax 
and Lord Melcombe were in the stage-box, the one 
prompting the actors, and the other running backwards 
and forwards behind the scenes, the play was a failure, 
only surviving five performances. 

The pictures drawn by Cumberland of Irish life and 
society in the early years of George iii.'s reign are 
both characteristic and amusing. Like most of his 
contemporaries who visited Dublin, the young Ulster 
secretary found the society of the Irish capital very 
different in tone and manner from that of London. 
The profusion of the tables struck him with amaze- 
ment, while ' the professional gravity of character main- 
tained by our English dignitaries was laid aside ; and 
in several prelatical houses the mitre was so mingled 
with the cockade, and the glass circulated so freely, 
that I perceived the spirit of conviviality was by no 
means excluded from the pale of the Church.' Of the 
intellectual powers of his fellow-secretary, Hamilton, 
Cumberland held a high opinion, declaring that he spoke 
well, though not often, and that his style strongly 
resembled the style of Junius. Edmund Burke he only 
saw once by accident while the young orator was in 
attendance upon Hamilton, but it was about this time 
70 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

that Burke broke off' his connection with his patron of 
single-speech fame. 

One of the most entertaining of Cumberland's Irish 
acquaintances was George Faulkener, the piratical 
publisher, whose name was blasphemed by most of 
the English authors of the period. Faulkener's niece 
had been engaged as governess to Lord Halifax's 
daughter, and for some time past had been carrying on 
a liaison with her employer. For her sake he had broken 
off" a proposed match with the daughter and heiress of 
Sir Thomas Drury. Miss Faulkener accompanied him 
to Ireland, and obtained an evil celebrity as a place- 
monger. Her uncle, according to Cumberland, was the 
only person whom Footers extravagant pencil could not 
caricature, for he had a solemn intrepidity of egotism 
and a daring contempt of absurdity that fully outfaced 
imitation. ' I sate at his table once from dinner till 
two in the morning,"' he tells us, ' whilst George swal- 
lowed immense potations, with one solitary strawberry 
at the bottom of his glass, which he said was recom- 
mended to him by his doctor for its cooling propensities. 
He never lost recollection or equilibrium the whole time, 
but was in excellent foolery. It was a singular coinci- 
dence that there was a person in company who had 
been reprieved from the gallows, as well as the judge 
who had passed sentence upon him. This did not in 
the least disturb the harmony of the society, nor embar- 
rass any human creature present.' 

In 1762 Lord Halifax was appointed Secretary of 
State, and returned to England, The short sojourn in 
Ireland did not result in much advantage to the Ulster 
secretary, who was offered a baronetcy at the conclusion 
of his patron's term of office, ' a mouthful of moon- 

71 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

shine ' which he refused. His father, however, obtained 
the Bishopric of Clonfert, and ' wore the mitre to his 
last hour with unblemished reputation, adored by his 
people for his benevolence, equity, and integrity.' When 
Lord Halifax returned to London to take the seals, he 
appointed Sedgewicke as his Under Secretary, passing 
over Cumberland on the ground that he was not fit 
for every office, and could not speak French. * I had 
a holding on Lord Halifax,'' says Richard, ' founded on 
a long and faithful attachment ; but as I had hitherto 
kept the straight and fair track in following his fortunes, 
I would not consent to deviate into indirect roads and 
disgrace myself in the eyes of his and my own con- 
nections.' It is probable that Cumberland had found 
his position in Lord Halifax's household more difficult 
since Miss Faulkener's accession to power, and that, 
refusing to pay his court to the lady, he lost what little 
influence he ever possessed with his patron. 

Finding himself cast out of employment, our hero 
thought it worth while to try and succeed Sedgewicke 
in his situation as Clerk of Reports at the Board of 
Trade. The new place, worth about two hundred a 
year, was obtained ; but our hero, now the father of 
three young children, began to look about him for some 
other means of increasing his income. Bickerstaff 
having lately brought out his Love in a Village with 
considerable success, Cumberland determined to attempt 
a little piece of the same kind. The result was a 
pasticcio called The Summe?'''s Tale, a tale about nothing, 
even its author confesses, and very indifferently told. 
It was then suggested that he should try his hand at 
high comedy instead of wasting his talents over popular 
trifles. Accordingly, he set to work during a summer 
72 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

visit to his parents at Clonfert, and produced the first 
of a long series of comedies called The Brothers. 

It was at Clonfert that Cumberland studied the Irish 
life and character which he was afterwards to turn to 
good account upon the stage. The church of Clonfert, 
by custom called a cathedral, and the episcopal resi- 
dence, by courtesy called a palace, stood on the banks of 
the Shannon in a nook of land surrounded on three 
sides by an impassable bog. The peasants were but 
little removed from savages, and their mode of life 
and methods of cultivating the land were of the most 
primitive order. The bishop undertook to improve 
matters in his own immediate neighbourhood. He held 
a large portion of land in his own hands, and employed 
a numerous tribe of labourers. His first object was to 
induce the people to adopt the same methods of hus- 
bandry as were practised in England-^a difficult matter, 
since they predicted that the new-fangled haystacks 
would catch fire, and the corn be unfit for use. Gradu- 
ally, however, they were prevailed upon to provide their 
cabins with chimneys, while outside each door was to be 
seen a stack of hay made in English fashion, and a plot 
of potatoes, carefully planted and kept free from weeds. 
Then the bishop turned his attention to their persons, 
a Sunday dinner being offered as a premium to all who 
should present themselves in clean linen and well-combed 
hair, without the customary addition of a scarecrow wig. 
The old barbarous habit of working with a greatcoat 
hung loosely over the shoulders and the sleeves dangling 
at the sides was now discarded, and the bishop"'s labourers 
turned into the fields stripped to their shirts, and proud 
to show themselves in whole linen. 

In October Richard Cumberland and his family 

73 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

returned to town, when his comedy was brought out with 
fair success at Covent Garden. Horace Walpole says in 
a letter to George Montagu, dated Dec. 14, 1769 : ' Mr. 
Cumberland has produced a comedy called Tlie Brothers. 
It acts well, but reads ill, though I can distinguish 
strokes of Mr. Bentley in it.' George Montagu says in 
his reply : ' I am glad it [the comedy] succeeds, as he has 
a tribe of children, and is almost as extravagant as his 
uncle, and a much better man." Garrick was among the 
audience, and an unexpected compliment ^ to himself in 
the epilogue led him to cultivate a friendship with the 
author. Cumberland was now fairly launched on his 
career as a playwright, a career which he pursued till 
near the end of his long life. In his old age he declared 
that he had never written a line to puff or praise him- 
self, or to decry a brother dramatist. ' I have stood for 
the corps wherein I have enrolled myself, and never 
disguised my colours by abandoning the cause of the 
legitimate comedy to whose service I am sworn, and in 
whose defence I have kept the field during nearly half 
a century, till at last I have survived all true national 
taste, and lived to see buffoonery, spectacle, and puerility 
so effectually triumph, that now to be repulsed from the 
stage is to be recommended to the closet, and to be 
applauded by the theatre is little else than a passport 
to the puppet show.' 

The following summer, probably that of 1770, 
Cumberland visited Clonfert again ; and in a tiny closet 
at the back of the palace, his view bounded by a peat- 

1 * Who but hath seen the celebrated strife 
Where Reynolds calls the canvas into life, 
And 'twixt the tragic and the comic Muse 
Courted of both, and dubious where to choose. 
The immortal actor stands.' 

74 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

stack, began to plan and compose his most successful 
comedy, The West Indian. His idea in writing this 
play, he tells us, was to introduce characters who had 
usually been exhibited on the stage as the butts for 
abuse or ridicule, and to endeavour to present them in 
such a light as might reconcile the world to them and 
them to the world. ' I thereupon looked into society ,"* 
he continues, ' for the purpose of discovering such as 
were the victims of its national, professional, or religious 
prejudices; and out of these 1 determined to select and 
form heroes for my future dramas."* The characters of 
a West Indian and an Irishman were chosen for the 
play on which he was then at work, the former being 
described as extravagant and dissipated, but also honour- 
able and generous, while ' the Irishman I put into the 
Austrian service, and exhibited him in the livery of a 
foreign master, in order to impress on the audience the 
melancholy and impolitic alternative to which his re- 
ligious disqualifications had reduced him — a gallant and 
loyal subject of his natural king. I gave him courage, 
for it belongs to his nation ; I endowed him with honour, 
for it belongs to his profession ; and I made him proud, 
jealous, and susceptible, for such the exiled veteran will 
be who lives by the earnings of his sword, and is not 
allowed to draw it in the service of that country which 
gave him birth, and which he was bound to defend.' 
This Major OTlaherty was the father of a large family 
of stage Irishmen, of whom Sir Lucius O'Trigger is the 
most celebrated. It may be permissible to wonder 
whether the principal character was intended as a com- 
pliment to the West Indian, Samuel Martin, who was 
Secretary to the Treasury when Lord Bute was First 
Lord. When Lord Bute resigned in 1768, Horace 

75 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

Walpole says, ' Young Martin, who is older than I am, 
is named my successor [as Usher of the Exchequer] ; but 
I intend he shall wait some years.' 

The neighbourhood of Clonfert seems to have offered 
plenty of opportunity for the study of national character 
in every rank. A near neighbour was Lord Eyre of 
Eyre Court, an eccentric gentleman who had never been 
out of Ireland, nor even far away from his own house, 
' His Lordship's day,' we read, ' was so apportioned as 
to give the afternoon by far the largest share of it, 
during which, from an early dinner to the hour of rest, 
he never left his chair, nor did the claret ever quit the 
table. This did not produce inebriety, for it was sipping 
rather than drinking that filled up his time, and this 
mechanical process of gradually moistening the human 
clay was carried on with very little aid from conversation. 
He lived in an enviable independence as to reading ; 
indeed, he had no books. Not one of the windows of 
his castle was made to open, but luckily he had no 
liking for fresh air, and the consequences may be better 
conceived than described.' 

Lord Eyre, who had a great passion for cock-fighting, 
and whose cocks were the crack of all Ireland, engaged 
Cumberland in a main. ' I was a perfect novice in that 
elegant sport,' he explains, ' but the gentlemen from all 
parts sent me in their contributions, and I won every 
battle but one.' The rival parties got gloriously drunk 
afterwards, and Cumberland slipped away, having first 
begged a young officer among Lord Eyre's guests to 
endeavour to keep the peace, and above all things to 
avoid the introduction of party politics. The officer 
so far forgot his undertaking, when in his cups, as to 
ask the company to drink to the glorious and immortal 
76 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

memory of King William. This was a mortal aiFront 
to one section of the party, and a duel in the early dawn 
was the immediate consequence. Fortunately, the shots 
did no execution — probably the combatants'* hands were 
shaky — and the affair ended without bloodshed. 

Fairies were frequent visitors to this part of the 
country, and it was not the peasant class alone that 
believed in them. Richard, riding out with his father 
one day, met the Roman Catholic priest of the parish. 
The Bishop begged his colleague to caution his flock 
against the idle superstition of the fairies, when the 
good man confessed that he was himself far from being 
a sceptic as to the fact of their existence. Dr. Cumber- 
land thereupon turned the conversation to the padre's 
steed, which was in sorry condition. Its owner explained 
that, having a mighty deal of work and very little pay, 
he could not afford to feed his beast as well as he would 
like. ' Why, then, brother,' said the Bishop, ' 'tis fit 
that I, who have the advantage of you in both respects, 
should mount you on a better horse, and furnish you 
with provender to maintain him."* Orders were at once 
given for a stock of hay to be made ready at the priest's 
cabin, and in a few days a steady horse was purchased 
and presented to him. No wonder that the good Bishop 
was popular with Catholics and Protestants alike. One 
of his labourers trudged the whole way to Dublin to ask 
his lordship's blessing, while another threw himself out 
of a tree for joy at the Bishop's arrival, and was laid up 
with a bruised hip for several months. 

The West Indian was brought out by Garrick at 
Drury Lane, and had the unusual run of twenty-eight 
nights. From his author's nights Cumberland received 
very large profits ; the theatrical manager who brought 

77 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

the sums to his house in a huge bag of gold, declaring 
that he had never paid any author so much at one time. 
Lord Lyttelton observed that the comedy would have 
been a faultless composition if one of the characters had 
not listened behind a screen. ' I consider listening,' he 
said, ' a resource never to be allowed in any pure drama, 
nor ought any good author to make use of it.' Cumber- 
land urged that there was plenty of precedent for it ; 
and alluding to this point in his Memoirs, declares that 
if Aristotle had written a whole chapter professedly 
against screens, and Jerry Collier had edited it with 
notes and illustrations,he personally would not have placed 
Lady Teazle out of earshot to have saved his ears from 
the pillory. This, from Cumberland, is a rare tribute to 
a brother dramatist's genius, which must be set against a 
good deal of envy and uncharitableness. 

The success of The West Indian brought the author a 
numerous literary acquaintance, and it is evident that 
his house was an agreeable one. He was happy in his 
domestic life ; and though at this time he had six 
children under six, ' they were,' he tells us, ' by no 
means trained and educated with that laxity of discipline 
which renders so many houses terrible to the visitor, and 
almost justifies Foote in his professed veneration for the 
character of Herod. My young ones stood like little 
soldiers to be reviewed by those who wished to have 
them drawn up for inspection, and were dismissed, like 
soldiers, at a word.' ^ Cumberland explains that he was 
careful to study the proper assortment of his guests, two 
of the most attractive among whom were Garrick and 

^ Mrs. Thrale told Fanny Burney that Mr. Cumberland was a very 
amiable man in his own house, but as a father mighty simple, which 
accounted for the ridiculous conduct and manners of his daughters. 

78 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

Soanie Jenyns. The latter, who was one of the Com- 
missioners of the Board of Trade, published a treatise 
on the Art of Dancing, an Enquiry into the Nature and 
Oi-igin of Evil, and other forgotten works. His prose 
style was commended by Burke, and regarded by his 
contemporaries generally as a model of ease and elegance. 
According to Cumberland, Jenyns was an exceptionally 
unattractive-looking man, with eyes that protruded like 
a lobster's, and a figure of the exact mould of an ill- 
made pair of stiff' stays ; yet he innocently remarked, 
when Gibbon published his Historij, that he wondered 
anybody so ugly could write a book ! 

' This expert in dancing and metaphysics,' writes 
Cumberland, ' was the man who bore his part in all 
societies with the most even temper and undisturbed 
hilarity of all the good companions whom I ever knew. 
He came into your house at the very moment you had 
put upon your card ; and he dressed himself to do your 
party honour in all the colours of the jay. . . . His 
pleasantry was of a sort peculiar to himself; it har- 
monised with everything ; it was like the bread to your 
dinner ; you did not perhaps make it the whole or the 
principal part of your meal, but it was an admirable 
and wholesome auxiliary to your other viands. Soame 
Jenyns told you no long stories, engrossed not much of 
your attention, and was not angry with those that did. 
He wrote verses upon dancing, and prose upon the 
origin of evil, yet he was a very indifferent metaphysician, 
and a worse dancer. Ill-nature and personality, with 
the exception of the lines upon Johnson,^ I never heard 
fall from his lips.' 

^ The epitaph, of which the two best-known lines are : — 
' Boswell and Thrale, retailers of his wit, 
Will tell you how he wrote and talked and coughed and spit.' 

79 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

Another amusing new acquaintance was Foote, of 
whom the following characteristic anecdote is told : — 

' I went with Garrick to visit Foote at Parson's 
Green. Sir Robert Fletcher made the fourth at dinner. 
After about two hours, Sir Robert rose to depart ; there 
was an unlucky screen that hid the door, behind which 
Sir Robert hid himself ; but Foote, supposing him gone, 
instantly began to ]ilay off' his ridicule at the expense of 
the de})arted guest. I must confess it was a way he had, 
and just now a very unlucky way ; for Sir Robert, bolting 
from behind the screen, cried out, " I am not gone, Foote ; 
spare me till I am out of hearing ; and now with your 
leave I will stay till these gentlemen depart, and then 
you shall amuse me at their cost, as you have amused 
them at mine." A remonstrance of this sort was an 
electric shock that could not be parried. This event, 
however, which deprived Foote of all his presence of 
mind, gave occasion to Garrick to display his genius and 
good-nature in their brightest lustre. I never saw him 
in a more amiable light ; the infinite address and 
ingenuity which he exhibited in softening the enraged 
guest, and reconciling him to pass over an affi'ont as 
gross as could be well put upon a man, were at once 
the most comic and the most complete I ever witnessed. 
Why was not James Boswell present to have recorded 
the dialogue and action of the scene ? ' 

Cumberland now became a member of a pleasant 
artistic and literary coterie that used to dine on stated 
days at the British Coffee-house. Among the members 
were Goldsmith, Reynolds, Garrick, ' Ossian ' Macpherson, 
and Dr. Beattie, Of Goldsmith, his vanity, his whimsi- 
cality, his good-heartedness and frivolity, our author 
gives much the same account as others of his con- 
80 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

temporaries. ' That he was a poet there is no doubt,' 
is his verdict. ' But the paucity of his verses does not 
allow us to rank him in that high station where his 
genius might have carried him. There must be bulk, 
variety, and grandeur of design to constitute a first-rate 
poet. The Deserted Village, The Traveller, and The 
Hermit are all beautiful specimens, but they are only 
birds' eggs on a string, and eggs of small birds too. . . . 
Distress drove Goldsmith upon undertakings neither 
congenial with his studies nor worthy of his talents. I 
remember him, when in his chambers in the Temple 
he showed me the beginning of his Animated Nature, 
it was with a sigh, such as genius draws when hard 
necessity diverts it from its bent to drudge for bread, 
and talk of birds and beasts and creeping things, 
which Pidcock's showman would have done as well."* 
This passage throws a lurid light upon the estimation 
in which the study of natural history was held in 
the last century, and reminds the reader of the Rev. 
Edward TopselPs dedication to his History of Four- 
footed Beasts and Serpents, in which he apologises as a 
priest for devoting his talents to so frivolous a subject 
as zoology. 

Cumberland knew Johnson well, and draws an unusu- 
ally pleasing portrait of the great man. He doubts 
whether Johnson would have been such a champion of 
literature had he not been driven on to glory with the 
bayonet of sharp necessity pointed at his back ; but 
rather inclines to believe that if fortune had turned him 
into a field of clover, he would have lain down and rolled 
in it. ' I respected him highly,' he proceeds, ' and loved 
him sincerely. It was never my chance to see him in 
those moments of moroseness and ill-humour that are 
F 81 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

imputed to him.^ ... In quickness of intellect few 
ever equalled him, in profundity of erudition many may 
have surpassed him. I do not think he had a pure and 
classical taste, nor was apt to be pleased with the best 
authors, but as a general scholar he ranks very high. 
. . . He was always in perfectly good trim, and with 
the ladies whom he generally met he had nothing of 
the slovenly philosopher about him ; he fed heartily, 
but not voraciously, and was extremely courteous in his 
commendations of any dish that pleased his palate. . . . 
' At the tea-table he made considerable demands upon 
his favourite beverage ; and I remember when Sir Joshua 
Reynolds at my house reminded him that he had drunk 
eleven cups, he replied ; " Sir, I did not count your 
glasses of wine ; why should you number up my cups of 
tea ? " And then laughing in perfect good-humour, he 
added : " Sir, I should have released the lady from any 
further trouble if it had not been for your remark ; but 
you have reminded me that I want one of the dozen, 
and I must request Mrs. Cumberland to round up my 
number." When he saw the readiness and complacency 
with which my wife obeyed his call, he turned a kind 
and cheerful look on her, and said : " Madam, I must 
tell you for your comfort you have escaped much better 
than a certain lady did a while ago, upon whose patience 
I intruded greatly more than I have done on yours ; 
but the lady asked me for no other purpose than to 
make a zany of me, and set me gabbling to a parcel of 
people I knew nothing of; so. Madam, I had my revenge 

^ ' Mr. Cumberland assures me,' says Boswell, * that he was always 
treated with great courtesy by Dr. Johnson, who in his Letters to Mrs. 
Thrale thus speaks of that learned, ingenious, and accomplished gentle- 
man : " The want of company_is an inconvenience, but Mr. Cumberland 
is a million." ' 

82 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

on her, for I swallowed five-and-twenty cups of her tea, 
and did not treat her with as many words/"' I can only 
say "* (adds Cumberland) ' that my wife would have made 
tea for him as long as the New River could have supplied 
her with water/ 

On the first night of She Stoops to Conquer the 
whole Society dined together, and went afterwards to 
the theatre in order to lend their support to Goldsmith. 
According to our author's account, Adam Drummond, 
who had a sonorous and contagious laugh, was posted 
in an upper box ; and as he could not be trusted to laugh 
in the right place, Cumberland sat at his elbow to give 
him the signal. ' Having begun to laugh where he 
found no joke, he began to fancy that he found a joke 
in almost everything that was said, so that some of his 
bursts were malapropos. These were dangerous moments, 
for the pit began to take umbrage ; but we carried our 
play through, and triumphed not only over Colman's 
(the manager) judgment, but our own.' The story reads 
circumstantially enough, but doubt has since been thrown 
upon its accuracy. According to the papers of the day, 
Cumberland, instead of sitting by Drummond's side, and 
telling him when to laugh, was visibly chagrined by the 
success of the piece, and as wretched as any man could be. 

It was now suggested to Cumberland that he should 
do for Scotland what he had done for Ireland, and bring 
the character of a North Briton on the stage. Accord- 
ingly, he studied the language and idiosyncrasies of a 
Highland servant at a friend's house, and presently pro- 
duced The Fashionable Lover, in which a certain Colin 
Macleod plays a prominent part. The play was less 
successful than The West Indian, though the dramatist 
preferred it to his earlier work. ' I should be inclined 

83 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

to say,' he writes, ' that it was a drama of a moral, 
grave, and tender cast, inasmuch as I discovered in it 
sentiments laudably directed against national prejudice, 
breach of trust, seduction, and the general dissipation 
of the time.'' This description does not sound exactly 
promising as applied to a comedy, and it is small 
wonder that some of the critics fell foul of the piece. 
The author was foolish enough to make serious appeals 
against the judgment of those whom he admitted to be 
cavillers and slanderers below notice, and attacked the 
critics in the advertisement to the published edition of 
his work, a proceeding which induced Garrick to nick- 
name him ' The Man without a Skin.' Probably Cum- 
berland had inherited some of the pugnacity of ' slashing 
Bentley ' ; and indeed he had already taken up the 
cudgels against a pamphlet by Bishop Lowth, which, 
though professedly aimed againt Warburton, contained 
an onslaught upon Bentley. Cumberland's reply in 
defence of his grandfather went through two editions, 
and was left unanswered by Lowth. 

The death of Goldsmith in April 1774 was followed 
by the publication of his poem Retaliation^ to which Cum- 
berland alludes with gratitude for the lines bestowed on 
himself. The poem owed its inception to a literary party 
at the St. James's Coffee-house, where it was suggested 
that extempore epitaphs should be written upon the 
persons present. Garrick and Dr. Bernard, Dean of 
Derry, both wrote comic epitaphs upon Goldsmith, 
which Sir Joshua illustrated with a caricature of the 
poet. Observing that Goldsmith appeared a little sore, 
Cumberland wrote a serious and complimentary epitaph, 
which was the more pleasing for being entirely unex- 
pected. At the next meeting Goldsmith produced his 
84 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

own epitaphs as they stand in the posthumously printed 
Retaliation. The lines relating to Cumberland may be 
quoted here, if only to show that our hero was sometimes 
grateful for small mercies : — 

' Here Cumberland lies, having acted his parts. 
The Terence of England, the mender of hearts ; 
A flattering painter who made it his care 
To draw men as they ought to be, not as they are ; 
His gallants are faultless, his women divine. 
And comedy wonders at being so fine : 
Like a tragedy queen he has dizened her out. 
Or rather like tragedy giving a rout. 
His fools have their follies so lost in a crowd 
Of virtues and feelings that folly grows proud. 
And coxcombs alike in their failings alone. 
Adopting his portraits, are pleased with their own ; 
Say, where has our poet this malady caught ? 
Or wherefore his characters thus without fault? 
Say, was it that vainly directing his view 
To find out men's virtues, and finding them few. 
Quite sick of pursuing each troublesome elf, 
He grew lazy at last, and drew from himself?' 

Of Sheridan, from the first appearance of The Rivals 
in 1775, Cumberland is said to have been uncontrollably 
jealous. The story goes that the author of The West 
Indian was present at the first night of The School for 
Scandal, and might have sat for the portrait of Uncle 
Oliver by reason of his ' villainous disinheriting counte- 
nance.' When this was reported to Sheridan, the wit 
observed that this behaviour showed ingratitude, for 
that when he went to see Cumberland's tragedy, The 
Carmelite, he laughed from beginning to end. Sheridan 
revenged himself by pillorying Cumberland in the char- 
acter, which all his contemporaries recognised, of Sir 

85 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

Fretful Plagiary.^ It will be remembered that Sneer 
says of Sir Fretful, before the entry of the latter : ' He 's 
as envious as an old maid verging on the desperation of 
six-and-thirty ; and then the insidious humility with 
which he seduces you to give a free opinion of his works 
can only be exceeded by the petulant arrogance with 
which he is sure to reject your observations. . . . Then 
his affected contempt of all the newspaper strictures, 
though at the same time he is the sorest man alive, and 
shrinks like scorched parchment from the fiery ordeal of 
true criticism ; yet is he so covetous of popularity that 
he had rather be abused than not mentioned at all.' Sir 
Fretful in his first scene is made to exclaim : ' News- 
papers ! Sir, they are the most villainous, licentious, 

abominable, infernal Not that I ever read them. No, 

I make it a rule never to look into a newspaper. . . . 
Their abuse is, in fact, the best panegyric. I like it of 
all things. An author's reputation is only in danger 
from their support.' 

Cumberland seems to have earned Walpole's lasting dis- 
like by his inability to appreciate Gray's Letters, although 
he wrote an ode in praise of Gray's Odes, ' charitably 
no doubt,' savs Horace, ' to make the latter taken notice 
of. Garrick read it the other night at Mr. Beauclerk's, 
who comprehended so little what it was about that he 
desired Garrick to read it backwards, and try if it would 
not be equally good ; he did, and it was.' Three months 
later, in March 1776, Walpole returns to the same 

1 Fanny Burney thought that Cumberland was intensely jealous of 
her fame, and observes : ' This poor man is so wonderfully narrow-minded 
in his authorship capacity, that though otherwise good, humane, and 
generous, he changes countenance at either seeing or hearing of any other 
writer.' 

86 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

subject in a letter to Mason, observing : ' Mr. Cumber- 
land has published two Odes, in which he has been so 
bountiful as to secure immortality for Gray, for Dr. 
James's Powder, and indeed for his own Odes, for Father 
Time would fall asleep before he could read them 
through. There is a dedication to Romney the painter 
that hisses with the pertness of a dull man.' ^ 

Fresh cause of offence was given to the Lord of 
Strawberry Hill by a note to the Life of' Dr. Bentley (in 
the Biographia Brittatiica), communicated by Cumber- 
land, who, says Horace, ' giving an account, too, of his 
uncle, Mr. Bentley's writings, because the latter has the 
honour of being related to hivi, says, speaking of Philo- 
damus^ " it was esteemed by the late eminent poet, 
Mr. Gray, to be one of the most capital poems in the 
English language. Accordingly, Mr. Gray wrote a 
laboured and elegant commentary upon it, which 
abounds with wit, and is one of his best productions." 
I say nothing of the excellent application of the word 
accordingly, nor of the false English in the last which, 
which should refer to it, and not, as he means it should, 
to commentary, nor to the pedantic and Bentleian 
epithets of laboured and elegant, terms far below any- 
thing of Gray's writing, and only worthy of prefaces 
written by witlings who are jealous of and yet compli- 
ment one another ; but laboured I dare to swear it was 
not, and for the wit of it, though probably true, 

■* ' Sir Joshua mentioned Mr. Cumberland's Odes, which were just pub- 
lished. Johnson : " Why, sir, they would have been thought as good as 
Odes commonly are if Cumberland had not put his name to them ; but a 
name immediately draws censure unless it be a name that bears down all 
before it." ' — Boswell. 

- A poem of Richard Bentley's. 

87 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

Cumberland, of all men living, is the worst judge, who 
told me it was a pity Gray's Letters were printed, as they 
disgraced him. I should be glad to see what this 
jackadandy calls a commentary, and which I suppose 
was a familiar letter, and perhaps a short one ; for 
Gray could express in ten lines what the fry of scholiasts 
would make twenty times as long as the text ! . . . Mr, 
Cumberland has written a laboured and elegant drama^ 
which by the title I concluded was to be very comical, 
and more likely to endanger the celebrity of Aristo- 
phanes than of any living wight. It is called The 
Wkloiv of' Delphi, or the Descent of the Deities, and I 
am told is to demolish the reputation of Caractaciis. 
A precis of the subject was published two days ago in 
the Public Advertiser for the benefit of the illiterati, 
who are informed that poor Shakespeare was mistaken 
in calling the spot of the scene Delphos instead of 
Delphi. I hope there will be a dance of Cyclops^* (I 
don't know whether commentators will allow that 
termination), hanmiering, by the order of Venus, armour 
to keep the author invulnerable, who has hitherto been 
terribly bruised in all his combats with mortals.' 



PART II 

The next few years of Cumberland's life may be passed 
over rapidly, since they contain no events of special 
importance. His father, transferred to the Bishopric of 
Kilmore, died shortly after entering upon his new see, 
and was soon followed bv his wife. There was now a new 
88 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

chief at the Board of Trade in the person of Lord 
George Germaine, afterwards Lord Sackville, the hero, 
in a contrary sense, of Minden. Between Lord George 
and Cumberland grew up a steady friendship, which was 
only broken by the death of the former in 1785, The 
duties of his office being presumably light, Cumberland 
continued his dramatic work, the Choleric Man being 
brought out with success by Garrick, though the malevo- 
lence of the public prints suffered no abatement, which 
is hardly surprising, since the playwright lost no oppor- 
tunity of retorting upon his critics. A dedication to 
Detraction was prefixed to the printed copies of this 
comedy; and Tom Murphy observed that if the reader 
wished to have a true idea of the CJiolerk Man, he 
would find it in the dedication. 

After Garrick retired from the stage, Sheridan brought 
out Cumberland's tragedy. The Battle of Hastings, at 
Drury Lane. His adaptation of Shakespeare's Timon 
oj Athens had previously been produced by Garrick and 
coldly received. Walpole, however, writing to Lady 
Ossory in December 1771, says : 'There is a new Timon 
oJ Athens, altered from Shakespeare by Mr. Cumberland, 
and marvellously well done, for he has caught the manners 
and diction of the original so exactly that I think it is 
full as bad a play as it was before he corrected it.' 
Truly, a back-handed kind of compliment ! 

The Cumberland children were now growing up ; the 
four boys at Westminster, the two girls about to be 
introduced to the world. It was their father's wish 
that one or more of his sons should enter at Trinity 
and adopt the studious life that he himself had so un- 
willingly renounced. But those were stirring times ; 
the War of Rebellion had broken out in America, and 

89 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

in Europe we had the Spanish quarrel on our hands. 
The Cumberland boys saw no charm in the student's 
career when the trumpets were calling to the youth of 
England to fight their country's battles, and when the 
sound of shot and shell was ever in their ears. Two 
of them went into the army and two into the navy ; 
the second son, George, being killed at the siege of 
Charleston. 

The year 1780 was an eventful and, as it proved, a 
disastrous year for the Cumberland family. Our hero 
had discovered, through a secret channel, certain things 
passing between the agents of France and Spain, which 
led him to believe that the Family Compact might be 
broken, and that negotiations might be opened through 
the Spanish Minister, Florida Blanca, with a view to 
arranging a peace between Spain and England. So per- 
suaded was he of the feasibility of the scheme, that he 
made application to the Government for permission to 
attempt this delicate and dangerous task. 

In the result he was allowed to repair to the port of 
Lisbon, where he was bidden to remain till the Abbe 
Hussey, the Irish chaplain of his Catholic Majesty, pro- 
ceeded to Aranjuez to reconnoitre. According to the 
report that he received from Hussey, Cumberland was to 
be governed in the alternative of going into Spain to 
carry out his mission, or returning to England by the 
ship that had brought him out. He was to take with 
him his wife and daughters, in order to give colour to 
the pretence of travelling into Italy in search of health 
on a passport through the Spanish dominions. It will 
readily be understood that this mission meant fame 
and fortune if it succeeded, but something not far 
short of disgrace if it failed, even though the failure 
90 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

should not be the fault of the unaccredited ambassador 
of peace. 

The party started from Portsmouth in the frigate 
MUford on 22nd April 1780, but were detained in the 
Channel by unfavourable winds until the 2nd of May. 
When at last they got clear away, the sea ran mountains 
high, and broke over the low and leaky frigate, till one 
at least of the passengers thought that the ship could 
not possibly live out such a gale. When the wind 
abated, a new danger appeared in the shape of a French 
frigate, which was attacked by the MUford^ and after a 
bloody fight surrendered to the English ship. In these 
days it seems strange to read of a naval fight taking 
place with ladies on board one of the combatant vessels ; 
but Cumberland writes as though the incident were a 
mere matter of course, and rather apologises for describ- 
ing the affair, which, he says, would seem but trifling to 
a naval reader. Yet, in the course of the action the 
French ship lost her captain, second captain, and fifty 
men killed or wounded, while the Milfbrd had three men 
killed and four wounded. That the ' handy man ' was 
made of the same stuff in those days as in these may be 
gathered from Cumberland's account of the battle. 

' When I witnessed the despatch with which a ship is 
cleared for action,' he says, ' the silence and good order 
so strictly observed, and the commands so distinctly 
given, I was impressed with the greatest respect for the 
discipline and precision observed on our ships of war."" 
One of the marines had his arm shattered, but refused 
to leave the quarter-deck till the action was over ; when 
going down to have his wound dressed he met Miss 
Cumberland coming up, and gallantly presented the 
injured arm to assist her. She, noticing that he flinched 

91 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

upon her touching it, said, ' Sergeant, I am afraid you 
are wounded ' ; to which he replied, ' To be sure I am, 
madam, else I should not have been so bold as to have 
crossed you on the stairs."" The shifting of the prisoners 
was a task of danger, as they were very drunk, but at last 
the Milford was able to proceed on her voyage in company 
with her prize. Cumberland tells us that he wrote a sea- 
song descriptive of the fight ; but although there were 
some good singers among the crew, their delicacy would 
not allow the song to be heard until their prisoners were 
removed, after which they sang it every night. 

After being chased by a French battle-ship, which 
she managed to outsail, the Milford arrived safely in the 
mouth of the Tagus, and for the next few weeks the 
travellers stayed at Lisbon while the Abbe Hussey 
proceeded to Aranjuez to see whether the stars were 
propitious for the prosecution of a peace mission. Cum- 
berland's latest instructions were to return to England 
or to advance into Sjiain according as that country 
should, or should not, make the cession of Gibraltar 
the basis of a negotiation. The Abbe had special 
orders to be explicit on this point ; but in the course 
of time a letter arrived from him which gave no precise 
information, though on the whole he encouraged his 
colleague to proceed. Cumberland now found himself 
in a dilemma. He had no time to communicate with 
his own Government, and probably his wisest course 
would have been to return home at once. But his 
ambition was too strong for his prudence, and he decided 
to go on with his mission, though he knew that if it was 
unsuccessful he alone would be blamed. 

Having got across the frontier with considerable diffi- 
culty, the party found a coach and six mules awaiting 
92 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

them at Badajos, and on June 18 arrived at Aranjuez, 
Here the envoy was met with an account of the Gordon 
riots in London, which news all but extinguished his 
prospects of success at the outset. Apart from this, all 
had promised well, Spain was on delicate terms with 
France, she had recently received a check from Rodney, 
and Gibraltar had been relieved. But the recent insur- 
rections in Madrid lent undue importance to the riots 
in London, Florida Blanca professing to believe that the 
downfall of the British capital was imminent, and that the 
American rebellion was spreading to England. Cumber- 
land, knowing nothing of the true state of affairs, could 
only express his conviction that the tumult would be 
promptly quashed, and in a few days learned that his 
prophecy had been fulfilled. He now tried by every 
means in his power to bring back the negotiation to the 
stage it had reached before the report of the riots had 
arrived at Madrid ; but during a stay of nearly a year no 
moment occurred so favourable to the business as that 
of which ill-fortune had deprived him at the outset. 

Towards the end of June the family removed to 
Madrid ; and while Cumberland awaited the answer of 
Government to his first despatch, the capture of our 
great East and West Indian convoys by the Spanish 
fleet, together with other influences that were brought 
to bear upon Spain, changed the general outlook for the 
Avorse. When the despatch arrived, it proved unsatis- 
factory. Cumberland was expressly forbidden to enter 
upon any negotiations in which even the name of Gib- 
raltar was mentioned, while there was an implied reproof 
for his conduct of the business as far as it had gone. 
Meanwhile, the Court had removed to San Ildefonso, 
and thither Cumberland followed to attend upon the 

93 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

Minister, from whom, however, he could only obtain 
evasive replies; while Gibraltar, like King Charles's head 
in Mr. Dick's narrative, forced its way into every draft 
treaty. The Abbe Hussey was sent home as the bearer 
of fresh propositions, and our hero, unwilling to give 
up his mission, returned to Madrid to await events. 

Apart from political vexations and the surveillance of 
spies, the stay in Spain was pleasant enough. Whatever 
might be the attitude of the Minister, the Cumberlands 
were graciously entertained by the Royal Family, who 
invited them to the Escurial, showed them the art trea- 
sures of the palace, and ordered engravings to be made 
of any pictures that they might specially admire. The 
King sent a couple of his finest horses as a present to 
his avowed enemy George iii., and offered to supply 
blocks of the finest marble for the building or orna- 
menting of any of the royal palaces in England. Walk- 
ing one day through the Escurial, Cumberland surprised 
the King in his bedroom. His Majesty was very poorly 
lodged, in a room furnished with a small camp bedstead 
and faded curtains, but by his bedside hung the Mate)- 
Dolorosa of Titian, which he carried about with him as 
his private altar-piece. He showed his visitor some 
small American deer which he kept under a netting, 
and a little green monkey, undesirable room-fellows, one 
would think, either for kings or commoners. 

Among the chief friends of the family at Madrid was 
Count Kaunitz, the Imperial Ambassador,^ who fell 
desperately in love with the elder Miss Cumberland, and, 
being rejected by her, died shortly after her departure 
for England. Another lover was the Empress-Queen's 

* Son of the famous Austrian Minister, who was called ' Le Cocher de 
Europe.' 

94 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

gallant General Pallavicini, who tried to win the hand 
first of the elder and then of the younger daughter, but 
with no success. The Miss Cumberlands seem to have 
made a sensation in Spain by riding in the English 
fashion, and we are told that the princesses asked leave 
to take the pattern of their habits.^ 

The theatre, though small and dark, was celebrated at 
that time for its wonderful gypsy actress, La Tiranna. This 
woman, having heard of the high expectations that the 
English playwright had formed of her genius, sent to desire 
that he would not come to the theatre till she let him 
know, as she wished him to see her at her best. He was 
at length permitted to witness her performance of a 
tragedy, in the course of which she murdered her infant 
children, and exhibited them dead on the stage; while 
she, sitting on the bare floor between them, presented 
such a high- wrought picture of hysteric frenzy, ' laugh- 
ing wild amidst severest woe,"* as placed her, in his 
judgment, at the very summit of her art. ' In fact,'' 
he continues, ' I have no conception that the powers of 
acting can be carried higher ; and such was the effect 
upon the audience that, while the spectators in the pit 
having caught a kind of sympathetic frenzy from the 
scene, were rising up in a tumultuous manner, the word 
was given out by authority for letting the curtain fall, 
and a catastrophe, probably too strong for exhibition, 
was not allowed to be completed.' 

The expenses of this actress were defrayed by the 

1 Writing from Brighton in 1779, Fanny Burney says that the Miss 
Cumberlands 'are reckoned the flashers of the place, yet everybody 
laughs at them for their airs, affectations, tonish graces, and impertinences. ' 
They are reported (by Mrs. Thrale) to have been hissed out of a playhouse 
on account of the extreme height of their feathers. 

95 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

Duke of Osuna, Commander of the Spanish Guards, 
who found it indispensable for his honour to have the 
finest woman in Spain on his pension list, but thought 
it unnecessary to be acquainted with her, and at this 
time had never even seen her. He had once accepted 
an invitation to take a cup of chocolate at her house, 
but fell asleep on the way ; and not waking when his 
carriage stopped at her door, was driven home again, 
having slept away his curiosity to see the lady who was 
nominally under his protection. 

The peace negotiations still hung fire, intrigues were 
going on between Spain and Russia, and at last Cum- 
berland became convinced that his mission was hopeless.^ 
He received his recall in February 1781. Before his 
departure Florida Blanca informed him that the King 
of Spain had been so entirely satisfied with his conduct, 
that, apprehending he would find himself forsaken by 
his employers, he offered him full compensation for his 
expenses. Cumberland refused the offer, having come 
into Spain, as he said, relying solely upon the goodwill 
of his own Government, pledged to him through the 
Secretary of State. He had received a promise that all 
bills drawn by him upon his banker in London would 
be instantly replaced to nis credit as long as they were 
accompanied by a letter of advice to the Secretary. 
Secure in this promise, Cumberland set out on the return 
journey on March 24 with his family, increased by the 

' Horace Walpole has a sneer at ' Mr. Cumberland's successful negotia- 
tions in Spain, where he stayed begging peace till Gibraltar was battered 
to the ground. I hope he will write an Ode himself on that treaty he 
did not make ; and, like Pindar, fill it with the genealogy of the mule on 
which he ambled from the Trado to the Escurial, and when I am a mule 
I will read it.'— From the letter to Mason, dated June 14, 1781. 

96 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

birth of an infant daughter, in two Spanish coaches, 
each drawn by six mules, with outriders. In this 
fashion they were to travel as far as Bayonne, a journey 
that took them seventeen days to perform, and was not 
accomplished without adventures. 

At Burgos, Cumberland found a ' parcel ' of British 
seamen, prisoners of war, whom the Bishop of Burgos 
in his zeal for making converts had taken into his list of 
pensioners as true proselytes. The sailors begged their 
countryman to let them make their way out of Spain 
under his protection ; and the bishop, who was heartily 
sick of his converts, gladly gave his consent to their 
departure, on the understanding that a like number of 
Spanish prisoners should be liberated. At the next 
stopping- place Cumberland offered his snuff-box to a 
grave, elderly man who had sat down beside him. The 
stranger, looking steadily in his face, took a small 
portion of the snuff, and said, ' I am not afraid, sir, of 
trusting myself to you whom I know to be an English- 
man, and a person in whose honour I may perfectly 
repose. But there is death concealed in many a man's 
snuff-box, and I would seriously advise you on no 
account to take a pinch from the box of any stranger 
who may offer it to you ; and if you have done that 
already, I sincerely hope that no such consequences as I 
allude to will result from your Avant of caution.' The 
poisoned snuff, he further explained, always operated on 
the brain. 

This conversation returned to Cumberland's mind 
when, on reaching Bayonne, he was seized with ex- 
cruciating pains in the head, and for three wretched 
weeks was confined to his bed in continual delirium. 
To add to his troubles, it was found that, as none of the 
G 97 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

bills drawn upon his bankers had been honoured bj the 
Treasury, his credit was completely exhausted, and he 
was liable to arrest for debt at this stage of his journey. 
Fortunately, he was able to tide over this difficulty by 
borrowing five hundred pounds of Marchetti, his friend 
and fellow-traveller. As soon as the invalid was suf- 
ficiently recovered, the journey was resumed with post- 
horses to Paris, and thence via Ostend and Margate to 
London. On arriving at home, Cumberland discovered 
that from the day that he left England to the day of 
his return, a period of fourteen months, not a single 
shilling had been replaced to his banking account by the 
Treasury, though he had attached his letter of advice to 
every draft that he had made. Except for a thousand 
pounds advanced to him on setting out, his private 
fortune had supplied the whole of the expenses, which 
amounted to between four and five thousand pounds. 

A long memorial to Lord North, setting forth his 
claims in detail, received no reply ; but Cumberland was 
convinced that his lordship had never read it, or he 
could hardly have disregarded such just demands. The 
end of the matter was that no compensation was ever 
received, and the unfortunate envoy had sacrificed 
fortune, and in some sort reputation, for nothing. To 
quote his own words : ' I wearied the door of Lord 
North till his very servants drove me from it. I with- 
stood the offer of a benevolent monarch [the King of 
Spain], whose munificence would have rescued me, and I 
embraced ruin in my own country to preserve my 
honour as a subject of it ; selling every acre of my own 
hereditary estate, jointured on my wife, who generously 
concurred in the sacrifice which my improvident reliance 
upon the faith of Government compelled me to make.' 
98 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

When Lord North's Ministry was overturned in 
1782, the Board of Trade was abolished, and Cumber- 
land, then Secretary, was set adrift upon a compensation 
which represented less than half his former salary. 
At the same time his friend and chief, Lord George 
Germaine, was called to the Upper House under the 
title of Viscount Sackville. The ex-secretary now re- 
tired with his family to Tunbridge Wells, where he 
spent the next twenty years of his life, devoting him- 
self with a fatal industry to the ceaseless production 
of plays, novels, essays, and poems. Tunbridge he 
regarded as an ideal place of residence, observing that 
' it is not altogether a public place, yet it is at no 
period of the year a solitude. A reading man may 
command his hours of study, and a social man will find 
full satisfaction for his philanthropy. Its vicinity to 
the capital brings quick intelligence of all that passes 
there : the morning papers reach us before the hour 
of dinner, and the evening ones before breakfast next 
day.' For the men of Kent he conceived a great ad- 
miration; and in his novel A?-undel described them as 
being ' distinguishable above their fellows for the beauty 
of their persons, the dignity of their sentiments, the 
courage of their hearts, and the elegance of their 
manners." 

In his new leisure Cumberland cultivated his garden 
with lover-like devotion, finding a little friendly spot in 
which his laurels flourished, ' the only one yet dis- 
covered ' ; and collected materials for the essays which 
he afterwards published under the title of The Observer. 
He had already brought out his Anecdotes of Eminent 
Painters in Spain^ of which work the implacable Wal- 
pole observes, in a letter to Mason, dated April 13, 

LofC. 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

1 782 : ' Cumberland's book is called Anecdotes of Spanish 
Painters. To show he has been in Spain (of which he 
boasts, though with little reason) he spells every name 
(that is not Spanish) as they do ; the Fleming Rubens 
he calls (to Englishmen) Pedro Pablo Rubens, and 
Vitruvius Vititrbis. Two pages are singularly delect- 
able ; one of them was luckily criticised this morning in 
the Public Advei'tiser^ and saves me the trouble of 
transcribing ; the other is a chej d'ccuvre of proud 
puppyism. Speaking of the subjection of Spain to the 
Carthaginians, he says : " When Carthage was her mis- 
tress it is not easy to conceive a situation more degrad- 
ing for a noble people than to bear the yoke of 
mercantile republicans, and do homage at the shop- 
boards of upstart demagogues." Would not one think 
it was a Vere or a Percy who wrote this impertinent 
condolence, and not a little commis ? He goes on : 
" Surely it is in human nature to 'prefer the tyranny of 
the most absolute despot that ever wore a crown to the 
mercenary and imposing insults of a trader. Who 
would not rather appeal to a court than a counting- 
house ? " A most worthy ejaculation. This in a free 
country, from a petty scribe in office ! ' 

From his retirement in the country Cumberland still 
kept in touch with his friends of the literary and 
artistic Avorld. He attended Garrick's funeral in 1779, 
where he saw ' old Samuel Johnson standing beside the 
grave, at the foot of Shakespeare's monument, bathed 
in tears.' Romney, whom our author was one of the 
first to encourage, is described as being in art the rival 
but in nature the very contrast of Reynolds. Shy, 
studious, contemplative and hypochondriacal, with aspen 
nerves that every breath could ruffle, he was a man of 
100 




.«4-^t^*? 



^.Ausn^iA^ u}tt'm-^l/ayna^ . 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

few wants and strict economy, with no dislike to money. 
' He had opportunities enough to enrich him even to 
satiety ; but he was at once so eager to begin, and so 
slow in finishing his portraits, that he was for ever dis- 
appointed of receiving payment for them by casualties 
and revolutions in the families they were designed for. 
So many of his sitters were hilled off, so many favourite 
ladies dismissed, so many fond wives divorced, before he 
would bestow half an hour's pains upon their petticoats, 
that his unsaleable stock was immense ; whilst with a 
little more regularity and decision he would have more 
than doubled his fortune/ 

Cumberland gives an amusing account of his taking 
Garrick to Romney's studio in the early and struggling 
days of the painter's career. ' When I first knew 
Romney,' he writes, ' he was poorly lodged in Newport 
Street, and painted at the small price of eight guineas 
for a three-quarters portrait. I sat to him, and was 
the first who encouraged him to advance his terms by 
paying him ten guineas for his performance. I brought 
Garrick to see his pictures, hoping to interest him in 
his favour. A large family piece unluckily arrested 
his attention ; a gentleman in a close buckled bob-wig 
and a scarlet waistcoat laced with gold, together with 
his wife and children, had taken possession of some 
yards of canvas, very much as it appeared to their own 
satisfaction, for they were perfectly amused in a con- 
tented abstinence from all thought or action. When 
Garrick had fixed his lynx eye upon this unfortunate 
group, he began to put himself in the attitude of the 
gentleman ; and turning to Mr. Romney, " Upon my 
word, sir," said he, " this is a very regular, well-ordered 
family, and that is a very bright, well-rubbed mahogany 

101 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

table at which that motherly good lady is sitting, and 
this worthy gentleman in the scarlet waistcoat is doubt- 
less a very excellent subject of the State (if all these are 
his children), but not for your art, Mr. Romney, if you 
mean to pursue it with that success which I hope will 
attend you."" The modest artist took the hint in good 
part, and turned his family with their faces to the wall. 
When Romney produced my portrait, " It was very well," 
Garrick observed. " That is very like my friend, and 
that blue coat with a red cape is very like the one he 
has on, but you must give him something to do ; put 
a pen in his hand, a paper on his table, and make him 
a poet ; if you can set him well down to his writing, 
who knows but in time he may write something in your 
praise .'* " '' 

Cumberland pays a graceful tribute to the hospitable 
bookseller, Mr. Dilly, whose table, as he says, was ever 
open to the patrons and pursuers of literature. ' Under 
this roof the biographer of Johnson and the pleasant 
tourist to Corsica and the Hebrides passed many jovial 
hours ; here he has located some of the liveliest scenes 
and most brilliant passages in his entertaining anecdotes 
of his friend Samuel Johnson, who yet lives and speaks 
in them. The book of Boswell is ever, as the year 
comes round, my winter evening's entertainment. I 
loved the man ; he had great convivial powers, and an 
inexhaustible fund of good-humour in society. Nobody 
could detail the spirit of a conversation in the true 
style and character of the parties more happily than 
my friend, James Boswell, especially when his vivacity 
was excited and his heart exhilarated by the circula- 
tion of the glass and the grateful odour of a well-broiled 
lobster.' 

102 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

To these parties of Dilly's, Cumberland owed many 
agreeable acquaintances among the younger litttrateurs 
of his period, the mention of one of whom seems to 
bring us down with a jerk to quite recent times. ' I 
can visit,' he writes, ' the justly admired author of 
The Pleasures of Memory^ and find myself with a friend 
who, together with the brightest genius, possesses ele- 
gance of manners and excellence of heart. He tells me 
he can remember the day of our first meeting at Mr. 
Dilly's; I also remember it. And though his modest, 
unassuming nature held back, and shrank from all 
appearance of ostentation and display of talents, yet 
even then I take credit for discovering a promise of 
good things to come, and suspected him of holding 
secret commerce with the Muse before the proof ap- 
peared in the shape of one of the most beautiful and 
harmonious poems in our language. I do not say he 
has not ornamented the age he lives in, though he were 
to stop where he is, but I hope he will not so totally 
deliver himself over to the arts as to neglect the 
Muses ; and I now publicly call upon Samuel Rogers ^ 
to answer to his name, and stand forth in the title- 
page of some future Avork that shall be in substance 
greater, in dignity of subject more sublime, and in 
purity of versification not less charming than the poem 
aforesaid.' 

Among the most successful of the dramas that con- 
tinued to pour forth from Tunbridge Wells were The 
Wheel of' Fortune, The Mijsterioiis Hnshcmd, The Natural 
Son, and The Jeic, the latter being inspired by its 
author's wish to awaken sympathy in the minds of the 

^ Rogers, who was born in 1763 and died in 1855, published his 
Pleasures of Alemory in 1792, 

103 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

public for an oppressed race. He was fortunate in 
having his pieces presented by such actors as Mrs. 
Siddons, Mrs. Abington, Miss Farren, Henderson, and 
John Kemble. Cumberland, who apologises for his 
prolificness on the ground that he ' never did nothing,' 
and never injured his health nor blunted his senses by 
intemperance, also wrote numerous sermons, versified 
fifty of the Psalms, and published a tract called A Few 
Plain Reasons for Believing in the Evidence qf the 
Christian Religion, which is said to have almost per- 
suaded Foote to be a Christian. His Observer, which 
consisted of critical researches, brief accounts of the 
philosophers and poets, and historical anecdotes, was 
well received by the critics, his inquiry into the history 
of the Greek comic poets being considered a contribution 
of genuine value. 

It is curious, perhaps, that the son of a well-read 
and highly intellectual woman, who had specially de- 
clared that he owed everything to his mother's teaching, 
should have gone out of his way to throw ridicule on 
learned women. In three of the early numbers of the 
Observer a female pedant is exhibited, who is in danger 
of forfeiting the hand of a lover unless she burns all her 
books and engages n :::ver again to quote a line of poetry 
as long as she lives. ' For God's sake,' exclaims the 
lover, * what have women to do with learning ? ' The 
required promise is given, and shortly after her mar- 
riage the lady is asked at a dinner-party to help out a 
fellow-guest with a quotation from Pope's Essay on Man. 
She remembers the passage perfectly ; but catching her 
husband's eye, is reminded of her promise, and finally 
becomes so embarrassed that she bursts into tears. 
' Nothing ever equalled the tenderness of Henry on that 
104 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

occasion ' — the lady is supposed to be telling the anec- 
dote against herself — ' nay, I thought I could discover 
that he was secretly pleased with the event, as it 
betrayed a consciousness of former vanities, and seemed 
to prove that I had repented of them."* In Cumber- 
land's comedy, Tlie Natural Son^ there is a passage on 
the same subject, in which, however, the author's bias 
is less apparent. One lady, assuring another that read- 
ing is ruinous to the complexion, observes : ' Dr. Calomel 
says that a lady, to preserve her beauty, should not 
even think ; he has wrote a book purposely to dissuade 
people from reading.' — ' Every book he writes will do 
that,' is the witty reply. 

A new departure was the production of a novel called 
Arundel, which was rapidly written during a few weeks' 
stay at Brighton. ' I believe,' says the author, ' that 
Arundel has entertained as many readers, and gained as 
good a character in the world as most heroes of that 
description, not excepting the immaculate Sir Charles 
Grandison, in whose company I have never found myself 
without being puzzled to decide whether I am most 
edified by his morality or disgusted by his pedantry.' 

The success obtained by this first novel, composed 
with so little labour, determined Cumberland to write 
a second, upon which he was resolved to bestow his 
utmost care and diligence. He took Fielding's Tom 
Jones as his model in point of detail, copying its 
arrangement into chapters and books. He had this 
work, which he entitled Henry, in hand for two years, 
and bestowed unusual polish and correction upon the 
style. A few rules which he laid down for his own 
guidance may be worth the attention of novel-writers 
even in these enlightened times. 

105 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

' I would have the story," he observes, ' carried on in 
a regular uninterrupted progression of events, without 
those dull recitals that call the attention off from what 
is going on, and compel it to look back, perhaps in the 
very crisis of curiosity, to circumstances antecedent to, 
and not always materially connected with, the history 
in hand. I am decidedly averse to episodes and stories 
within stories, like that of the " Man of the Hill " in Tom 
Jones ; and in general all expedients of procrastination 
which come under the description of mere tricks to 
torture the curiosity, are, in my opinion, to be very 
sparingly resorted to, if not totally avoided. Casualties 
and broken bones, faintings and high fevers, with 
ramblings of delirium and rhapsodies of nonsense, are 
perfectly contemptible. I think descriptive writing, 
properly so distinguished, is very apt to describe nothing, 
and that landscapes on paper leave no picture in the 
mind, and only load the page with daubings that in the 
author's fancy may be sketches after nature, but to the 
reader's eye offer nothing but confusion. 

' A novel, professing itself to the delineation of men 
and women, as they are in nature, should in general 
confine itself to the relation of things probable ; and 
though in skilled hands it may be made to touch upon 
things barely possible, the seldomer it risks those ex- 
periments, the better opinion I should have of the 
contriver's conduct. I do not think quotations orna- 
ment it, and poetry must be extremely good before I 
can allow it is of any use to it. In short, there should 
be authorities in Nature for everything that is intro- 
duced ; and the only case I can recollect in which the 
creator of the fictitious man may and ought to differ 
from the biographer of the real man is that the former 
106 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

is bound to deal out his rewards to the virtuous and 
punishments to the vicious, while the latter has no 
choice but to adhere to the truth of facts and leave his 
hero neither better nor worse than he found him. 
Monsters of cruelty and crime, monks and Zelucos, 
horrors and thunderings and ghosts are creatures of 
another region, tools appropriated to another trade, and 
are only to be handled by dealers in old castles and 
manufacturers of romance. ... I am encouraged to 
believe that in these volumes I have succeeded in what 
I laboured to effect — a simple, clear, harmonious style ; 
which, taken as a model, may be followed without lead- 
ing the novice into turgidity or obscurity, holding a 
middle tone of period, neither swelling into high-flown 
metaphor, nor sinking into inelegant or unclassical 
rusticity. Whether or not I have succeeded, I have 
certainly endeavoured to reform and purify my native 
language from certain false, pedantic prevalences which 
were much in fashion when I first became a writer.' 

Henry was a fine spirited novel of the Fielding school, 
but the book apparently was not animated by the vital 
spark, and is now as dead as most of its fellows. The 
author was attacked by some of the critics for the 
unnecessary warmth of his love-scenes ; and in reply to 
these strictui'es he says : ' If in my zeal to exhibit virtue 
triumphant over the most tempting allurements, I have 
painted these allurements in too vivid colours, I am 
sorry, and ask pardon of all those who thought the 
moral did not heal the mischief.' Of Cumberland's 
literary style readers will be able to judge by the 
extracts here quoted. To the modern ear his language 
sounds sufficiently dignified, though free from Johnsonian 
pedantry, and it is passing strange to read that he was 

107 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

blamed by many of his contemporaries for using a too 
familiar, gossiping, and colloquial style. 

Cumberland gives a pleasant account of his occupa- 
tions and amusements in his later years. His wife^s 
health never recovered from the fatigues and hardships 
of the Spanish journey, and she died a few years after 
the family had settled at Tunbridge Wells. The eldest 
daughter married Lord Edward Bentinck,^ brother of the 
Duke of Portland, while the second made a less fortunate 
match with a Mr. Badcock, and was early left a widow, 
in straitened circumstances. But the youngest, Frances, 
who had been born in Spain, remained at home, 
and became her father's companion and amanuensis in 
his old age. Of all his friends and neighbours there 
was none whom Cumberland loved so well as Lord 
Sackville, whose place, Stonelands, was within an hours 
ride of Tunbridge. An amusing description is given of 
the life led by the old nobleman in his retirement, 
which was evidently copied from that of a famous 
model. However indisposed he might be, he stepped 
into his breakfast-room every morning at half-past nine 
with a complacent countenance, and accoutred at all 
points. He allowed an hour and a half for breakfast, 
and regularly at eleven took his morning's circuit on 
horseback. It was his custom to make the tour of his 
cottages, to ascertain whether the roofs were in repair 
and the gardens well cropped. To this last it was his 
tenants' interest to attend; for, continues Cumberland, 
' he bought the produce of their fruit-trees, and I have 
heard him say with great satisfaction that he has paid 
thirty shillings in a season for strawberries to a poor 
cottager who paid one shilling annual rent for his house 
and garden ; this was the constant rent at which he let 
108 



RICHARD CUMBERLAxND 

them to his labourers, and he made them pay it to his 
steward at his yearly audit, that they might feel them- 
selves in the class of regular tenants, and sit down to 
the good cheer provided on audit day. . . . Upon the 
very first report of an illness or accident relief was sent, 
and the sufferers put upon the sick list, regularly visited, 
and supplied with all the best medicines administered 
upon the best advice. It was his custom to buy his 
cast-off liveries of his own servants, and these he dis- 
tributed to the old worn-out labourers who turned 
out daily on the lawn in the Sackville livery to pick 
up boughs, sweep up leaves, and, in short, do just as 
much work as served to keep them wholesome and 
alive. . . . 

' On the Sunday morning he appeared in gala, as if 
dressed for a drawing-room, and marched out his whole 
family in grand cavalcade to church, leaving only a 
sentinel at home to mount guard upon the spits. He 
had a habit of standing up in sermon time to review the 
congregation and awe the idlers into decorum, that 
reminded me of Sir Roger de Coverley. Sometimes, 
when he has been struck with passages in the discourse 
which he wished to point out to the audience as rules 
for moral practice worthy to be noticed, he would mark 
his approbation of them with such cheerful nods and 
signals of assent to the preacher, as were often more 
than my muscles could withstand ; but when to the 
total overthrow of all gravity, in his zeal to encourage a 
very young preacher, I heard him cry out to the Rev, 
Henry EatofF in the middle of his sermon, " Well done, 
Harry ! " it was irresistible.' 

During his last days Lord Sackville discussed with 
Cumberland, plainly and temperately, the part he had 

109 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

taken at the Battle of Minden. ' When I compare,' 
says the latter, ' what he said to me in his last moments 
(not two hours before he expired) with what he stated 
at this conference, if I did not from my heart, and upon 
the most entire conviction of my reason, solemnly acquit 
that injured man (now gone to his account) of the 
opprobrious and false imputations deposed against him 
at his trial, I must be either brutally ignorant or 
wilfully obstinate against the truth.' The world in 
general has now agreed to acquit Lord George of the 
charge of cowardice, and to sum up its opinion, not only 
of his action at Minden, but of the trial that followed, 
in the words, ' Somebody blundered.' 

The pen alone did not occupy all our hero's leisure in 
his latter days, for at one time he spent almost as many 
hours on the drilling-ground as in the study. ' When,' 
he writes, ' the consequences arising from the French 
Revolution had involved us in a war, our country called 
upon its patriotic volunteers to turn out and assemble 
in its defence.' Several friends in the neighbourhood 
volunteered to mount and form themselves into a troop 
of yeomanry under Cumberland's command ; but diffident 
of his fitness to act as leader, he recommended them to 
another gentleman, who had served in the regular army. 
A little later, however, when it was proposed to raise a 
corps of volunteer infantry, he no longer hesitated to 
obey the wishes of the loyal and spirited young men 
who offered to enrol themselves under his command. A 
regiment of two full companies was raised, and Cumber- 
land received his Majesty's commission to command it 
with the rank of Major Commandant. He pays a high 
tribute to the assiduity and discipline of his men, whom 
he reported as ready and willing to serve in any part of 
110 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

England. When disbanded at the Peace of Amiens, 
the regiment presented its commandant with a sword of 
honour, and begged permission to hold arms and serve 
without pay. 

The renewal of hostilities again put the corps, now 
raised to four full companies, under arms, and Cumber- 
land was once more placed at their head. He observes, 
in describing his volunteer experiences, that ' if we take 
into consideration the prodigious magnitude and extent 
of the volunteer system, we shall find that it has been 
productive of more real use and less incidental embarrass- 
ment to Government than could have been expected. 
After the proofs which the capital and the country have 
given of the spirit, discipline, and good order of their 
volunteers, both cavalry and infantry, it is not wise or 
politic or liberal to disparage them, as some have 
attempted to do.' Having described how his men, when 
called out on permanent duty, took their shilling a day 
and their straw at night in lieu of the high pay they 
were receiving as carpenters and masons, he continues : 
' Can I suppose that men like these would disgrace their 
colours or desert their officers ? Their officers, I am 
sure, will exchange that confidence with them, and I 
believe there was no commandant who was not satisfied 
of the alertness of his men in that crisis, when expecta- 
tion watched the beacon that was to give the signal for 
their turning out upon a moment's notice. It was not 
then the season to inquire from what shops they issued ; 
and the buffoon, who had risked a silly sneer at any man's 
vocation, would have met with about as much applause 
for his gabble as a goose would for her hissing. I 
readily admit that it must be every loyal man's wish to 
keep alive the martial spirit of the country, but how it 

111 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

can be any rational man's expectation to accomplish 
that wish by discouraging and revolting the volunteers, 
is a riddle that defies solution.' These Avords were 
written nearly a hundred years ago by the oldest 
volunteer officer in the country ; we have only lately 
realised their full significance. 

Cumberland was never, one suspects, a good man of 
business, and in his old age his financial difficulties seem 
to have increased upon him. In 1804 he was induced 
to write his Memoir?, by an offer from the house of 
Lackington and Allen of five hundred pounds. In 
1806, when a second edition was brought out, he added 
a supplement, giving a few more details of his life, and 
answering the strictures of some of his critics, more 
especially a writer in the newly-started Edinburgh Review^ 
who had blamed him for his egotism, and animadverted 
upon his style. The old lion still had a roar left in him, 
and in commenting upon this criticism he covers his 
wounded vanity with a mask of stately severity. ' I 
understand,' he observes, ' that these acrimonious North 
Britons are young men ; I rejoice to hear it, not only 
for the honour of old age, but in the hope that they 
will live long enough to discover the error of their 
ambition, the misapplication of their talents, and that 
the combination they have formed to mortify their con- 
temporaries is in fact a conspiracy to undo themselves.' 

In addition to the plays which he continued to pour 
out in endless profusion, and which at last could only 
be forced on the stage by means of intercession and 
flattery, Cumberland undertook in 1809 the conduct of 
the London Reviezo, a new literary periodical which was 
intended as a rival to the Quarterly. All the articles 
in this review were to be signed, the editor having, what 
112 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

one of his biographers calls, ' the chimerical idea that 
contemporary criticism could derive advantage by being 
robbed of anonymous importance/ Cumberland suffered, 
like most pioneers, for being in advance of his time, and 
the Review died with its second or third number. In 
the same year the veteran writer published his last novel, 
John de Lancaste?', in which he pronounced a doleful 
lamentation over the lack of appreciation with which he 
had been treated by his contemporaries. ' If, in the 
course of my literary labours,' he complains, ' I had been 
less studious to adhere to nature and simplicity, I am 
perfectly convinced 1 should have stood higher in estima- 
tion with the purchasers of copyright, and probably have 
been read and patronised by my contemporaries in the 
proportion of ten to one.' Scott, who reviewed the novel 
in The Quaiierli/, was probably irritated by this com- 
plaint; for he says of the author, with much less than 
his usual good nature, 'He has written comedies at which 
we have cried, and tragedies at which we have laughed ; 
he has composed indecent novels and religious epics ; he 
has pandered to the public lust for personal anecdote 
by writing his own life and the private history of his 
acquaintance.' Sir Walter was nuich kinder in the 
biographical notice prefixed to the edition of Cumber- 
land's novels which he edited for the Novelists' Library. 
In that he awards high praise to The West Indian ; and 
declares that if it had not been for Sheridan, the author 
of that play would have stood at the head of the 
dramatic writers of his period. 

Cumberland does not appear to have been a prolific 

correspondent ; at any rate, few of his letters have found 

their way into print. In the two volumes of Garrick's 

Correspondence are a few notes from our dramatist, 

H 113 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

relating chiefly to details connected with the production 
of his plays. Two or three undated manuscript letters 
from him to Mrs. Abington, written apparently about 
1781-82, may be seen in the Manuscript Room of the 
British Museum. These relate to a play, apparently 
the Widozv of Delphi, in which Mrs. Abington was to 
play the leading part. 

' I flatter myself,' runs the first, ' we shall now renew 
our dramatic friendship and connection with mutual 
satisfaction and pleasure. I have reformed the passages 
you pointed out, and since I have been here [Tunbridge 
Wells] I have written a prologue which contents me 
much, and an epilogue for you, which does not so easily 
satisfy my ambition of doing something not unworthy 
of the elegant representative. However, we will sit in 
equal and strict judgment upon it. The time I own is 
pressing, and the man is precarious — yet under the shelter 
of your shield I defy auguries. ... I flatter myself we 
shall be successful ; and as we started with the Bishop's 
blessing, we shall plead benefit of clergy in arrest of 
judgment. Recollect, my dear madam, that the play is 
got up with no other difficulty than what arises from 
the long and laborious part of the widow, and that will 
be in the hands of a lady who, whatever you may have 
to say to the contrary, is, in my opinion, the very first 
ornament of the English stage, and that in a period 
when it abounds with genius. — I have the honour to be 
that lady's most devoted old poet and obliged humble 
servant, Richard Cumberland.' 

The play was evidently less successful than had been 
anticipated, for in the next letter the author says : ' I 
cannot express to you how kindly I feel your sensibility 
114 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

to me, and how much obliged to you I am both for your 
flattering and consolatory letters. If I should deprive 
myself of other favours of the same sort, by declaring to 
you that I neither do, nor ever did experience any real 
vexation for the treatment I have received from Mr. 
Harris [the manager], I should lose a great deal of 
pleasure for a small vanity ; but in truth and sincerity 
I must say that no treatment from that party, nor any 
dramatic disappointment, can now disturb my temper. 
Time was (I confess it to my shame) when success was 
too much the object of my wishes ; that anxiety has now 
lost its edge, and I take events as they fall, without a 
murmur or complaint. I enter upon these undertakings 
with hopes of so low a pitch, and with resolutions so 
well fortified against miscarriage, that I am never taken 
by surprise. But in the present case, what have I lost ? 
how have I suffered ? at what should I repine ? I have 
had a piece well approved, and you have been the sup- 
porter of its introduction, representation, and success. 
Could I for a moment state the case that your opinion 
had fallen from me by the exhibition, that I confess 
would have been a wound ; but on the contrary of this, 
I have gained the most pleasing proofs of your friend- 
ship, zeal, and affection for my peace of mind as well as 
credit, and the acquisition of such a friend is more to 
me than I will undertake to tell you, though I shall not 
be so scrupulous in speaking of it to others,'' 

In spite of his strongly expressed satisfaction with the 
success of his piece, Cumberland in his next letter is 
asking Mrs. Abington for her kind negotiations on behalf 
of the play, which he is anxious to have acted another 
night or two before the conclusion of the season. In 
any case he hopes that ' the house will have so much 

115 



RICHARD CUMBERLAND 

consideration for me as to quit the play with a short 
paragraph, which will cost them nothing, and may secure 
it from the ill-natured conclusions of such newspaper 
malice as The World and other public prints of the day 
are too ready to announce, when a play is laid aside for 
a season.' There speaks the true Sir Fretful Plagiary, 
who can never help wincing under the attacks of those 
whom he affects to despise. 

Cumberland died in 1811, aged seventy-nine, and was 
buried in Poets' Corner, Westminster Abbey, near the 
tomb of Garrick. His friend. Dr. Vincent, Dean of 
Westminster, pronounced the funeral oration, in which 
he described the deceased author as being in his works 
a moralist of the highest order, who considered the 
theatre as a school of moral improvement, and added 
that ' his remains are truly worthy of mingling with the 
illustrious dead that surround us.' Some of the auditors 
are said to have wondered whether the Dean had ever 
read certain warmly-tinted passages in his friend's novels 
Henry and Arundel. 

To the last Cumberland is described as an agreeable 
and even fascinating companion, though he was so fond 
of flattery himself that he supposed it to be acceptable 
to others, even in the most exuberant proportions. 
Certain it is that, although he was not altogether happy 
in his temperament, he made many friends ; and though 
time has dealt hardly with his reputation, one piece of 
good fortune can never be taken from him, namely, the 
prospect of going down to posterity astride the epitaph 
in Goldsmith's Retaliation as 

*The Terence of England, the mender of hearts.' 

116 



LADY CRAVEN 

(MARGRAVINE OF ANSPACH] 



LADY CRAVEN 

(margravine of anspach) 

(1750-1828) 

' Her life^ if faithfully lorUten., loould make a most extra- 
ordinary book.'' So wrote Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe, 
the Scottish Horace Walpole, of the subject of this 
memoir. Unfortunately, Lady Craven's life never has 
been faithfully written though — or because — she wrote 
it herself. The most that can now be done is to read 
between the lines of her story, as she told it, and to 
punctuate her rose-coloured account of her own career 
with the gossiping comments of her contemporaries. 
It must be confessed that her ladyship, who is said to 
have been an admirable raconteur in society, had a dull 
and incoherent prose style ; and was so engrossed by the 
contemplation of her own beauty, virtues, and accom- 
plishments, that it is necessary to sift her autobiography 
and letters very carefully in order to extract a few grains 
of amusement, or even of truth. 

Elizabeth, Lady Craven, afterwards Princess of Berkeley 
and Margravine of Anspach, was the youngest daughter 
of Augustus, fourth Earl of Berkeley, and was born in 
1750. Lady Berkeley,^ nee Drax, was a handsome, 

^ Horace Walpole says of Lady Berkeley : ' There is nothing so 
black of which she is not capable. Her gallantries are the whitest 
specks about her. ' 

119 



LADY CRAVEN 

lively, unprincipled woman, who was chiefly remarkable 
for having produced three daughters at a birth when 
her husband particularly desired a son and heir. Eliza- 
beth was not one of the three, who all died in infancy ; 
but belonging to a despised sex, and being a puny, 
miserable-looking baby, it seems to have been taken 
for granted that she would not live, and she was left 
neglected on a chair by her mother's bedside. Lord 
Berkeley's aunt, Lady Albemarle, coming to visit her 
niece, was about to sit down on the same chair, 
thinking that it only contained a piece of flannel, 
when the screams of the nurse prevented a catastrophe, 
and the premature flattening of a very high-spirited 
young lady. Lady Albemarle, on examining the baby, 
declared that it would live if properly looked after, 
sent out for a wet-nurse, and practically saved the 
child's life, 

Elizabeth afterwards attributed the clearness of her 
ideas, which she says was a comfort to both her husbands, 
though it is conspicuously lacking in her writings, to the 
fact that as a child she was too delicate to be tossed in 
the air or jolted about on her nurse's knees. This theory 
was confirmed to her own satisfaction by the testimony 
of Pere Elisee, surgeon to Louis xvi,, who declared that 
the reason so many English children were delicate, and 
suffered from water on the brain, was because of the 
infamous custom of shaking and tossing them before the 
head was properly supported by the fibres of the neck. 
' Although I was always complimented on being quite 
superior, and otherwise gifted by nature to the generality 
of my sex,' she observes, with that superb complacency 
which was her most striking characteristic, ' I always 
attributed such accomplishments to the effect of my 
120 



LADY CRAVEN 

education. Instead of skipping over ropes, I was taught 
to pay and receive visits with other children, and supposed 
myself a lady who was receiving company.' 

Lady Berkeley cared more about society and admira- 
tion, to say nothing of flirtations, than about her domestic 
duties; and her husband, becoming anxious about the 
future of his two little girls, sent for the Swiss wife of a 
former tutor, gave her a house in the park, and solemnly 
requested her to take charge of Lady Georgiana and 
Lady Elizabeth, and never to leave them until they 
married. So impressive were his injunctions, that the 
good woman fainted away after having faithfully pro- 
mised to carry out the trust. Lord Berkeley died when 
Elizabeth was only five years old, and shortly afterwards 
his widow married Lord Nugent, poet, politician, and 
fortune-hunter. His first wife had been a daughter of 
Lord Fingal, his second Ann Craggs (sister of the 
Secretary of State), who was old and ugly, and had 
already disposed of two husbands, but possessed an all- 
redeeming fortune of a hundred thousand pounds. After 
her death, though he was then fifty-five. Lord Nugent 
seems to have looked out for beauty and comparative 
youth as well as money ; but having been the enfant cheri 
of two plain, elderly wives, he was unable to get on 
with the headstrong, high-spirited Lady Berkeley, and 
the pair separated after only two years of married life. 

Elizabeth tells us that her passion for reading was early 
developed, and that she was a precocious performer at 
both reciting and dancing. Not being a favourite at 
home, she had no idea that she was pretty ; while her 
mother's harsh treatment produced ' that look of modesty 
and timidity which, contrasted with my natural vivacity 
and love for all that was gay and cheerful, fascinated 

121 



LADY CRAVEN 

every one in so powerful a degree.' The education of the 
two little girls under their Swiss governess seems to 
have been more sensible than that of the ordinary young 
lady of the period. They were taught to dress them- 
selves, to make their own beds, and, when the weather 
was too wet for out-door exercise, were made to sweep 
the rooms and arrange the furniture. At Berkeley 
Castle they received regular instruction in housewifery, 
visiting in turn the kitchen, laundry, and cheese-farms. 
When the family were in London the girls were sent for 
once a week by their great-aunts Lady Suffolk^ and Lady 
Betty Germaine (nee Berkeley) to spend the day. Lady 
Suffolk was Elizabeth's godmother, and took a special 
interest in the child's education. Her godfather was 
her father's brother, Narbonne Berkeley, afterwards Lord 
Bottetourt, who ruined himself by his generosity, though 
he neither gamed nor drank. He frequently gave his 
god-child two guineas to spend ; but finding that she 
always gave the money to the poor, he told her to make 
out a list of the things she wanted, and he would buy 
them for her. When she was ten years old, he gave her 
a magnificent doll, dressed in a Court dress, and made 
to resemble her as exactly as possible, with blushing 
cheeks, and head slightly averted, a trick that her 
timidity had taught her. 

Li the winter of 1765-6, Lady Berkeley (who seems 

^ Lady Suffolk, whose second husband was the Hon. George Berkeley, 
was, of course, the former Mrs. Howard, mistress of George il., while the 
witty Lady Betty Germaine was notorious for her connection with Lionel, 
Duke of Dorset, to whose second son, Lord George Sackville, she left her 
fortune and her name. Lady Craven was not fortunate in the example set 
her by her aunts, her great-great-aunt. Lady Henrietta Berkeley, having 
created a scandal at the end of the previous century by eloping with her 
brother-in-law, Lord Grey of Werk. 

122 



LADY CRAVEN 

to have kept her first title) took her two daughters to 
Paris to meet her eldest son, who had been studying at 
the Academy of Turin. There being a great gale in the 
Channel, Lady Berkeley was terrified. Lady Georgiana 
fainted, and the maid was helpless. Elizabeth alone, 
according to her own account, kept her senses. ' As I 
thought mariners knew better than myself if there were 
any danger,"* she says, ' I went and addressed the captain, 
and with one of my best curtsies, asked him if there was 
any danger ; he told me none. I then began to feel 
sick, and asked him if he could give me anything to stop 
the sickness. He desired to know if I had ever drunk 
any brandy, and on my replying, " Oh, no ! "" he gave me 
some, which soon allayed the complaint.'' 

In Paris Lady Berkeley's house became a rendezvous 
for all the young Englishmen who passed through. 
Her two pretty daughters astonished their countrymen, 
we are told, by their indifference to homage, and the 
calmness with which they received the most flattering 
attentions. Elizabeth attributes this rather unusual 
trait to the fact that they had been accustomed to give 
and attend numerous children''s parties in London, 
where the boys, among whom were numbered Lords 
Egremont, Tyrconnel, Cholmondeley, and Carlisle, were 
kept in good order by the girls, and sent to Coventry if 
they were inclined to be rude or boisterous. ' Such 
an education,' she observes, ' took from us that foolish 
delight and overstrained avidity with which young 
English ladies treat men when they are brought out 
into society."" 

One of the most regular visitors was Lord Forbes, 
eldest son of the Earl of Granard, who played loo 
every Friday evening with Lady Berkeley without ever 

123 



LADY CRAVEN 

addressing himself to her daughters. There was usually a 
lottery-table for the amusement of the young people, over 
which Lady Georgiana presided. After a time, however, 
she said that she preferred to look on at the loo-table, 
and left Elizabeth to manage the lottery. One night 
Georgiana stole to her sister's bed and said, ' Bessy, I 
am in love.' It turned out that Lord Forbes was the 
object of her passion, at which Elizabeth was amazed, 
for the young man was ugly, a widower, and had ' a 
foolish sort of Irish humour which was very disgust- 
ing.' Georgiana confessed that she had spoken first 
to Lord Forbes, being piqued at his openly-shown 
indifference. 

Georgiana refused to tell her mother about her love- 
affair, but promised that her sister should know more 
the next night, when they were going to a hal masque. 
At the ball Elizabeth herself had an adventure, which 
caused her more alarm than pleasure. While walking 
with her sister and Lord Forbes, a domino suddenly 
threw himself at her feet, and exclaimed, ' Lady Eliza- 
beth, I shall die if you do not hear me.' He pulled off 

his mask, and she beheld ' the handsome Mr. , 

perhaps the handsomest man to be seen in any country.' 
Surprised and terrified, the child, for she was little 
more, drew back, and made no reply. The anonymous 
gentleman asked leave to speak to Lady Berkeley, 
whereupon Lord Forbes answered jokingly, 'It is a 
dumb chicken, but I '11 roast her for this.' The admirer 
was in earnest, however, for a few days later he formally 
requested permission to pay his addresses to Lady 
Elizabeth, but was refused point-blank, his offer causing 
much amusement to her family. About the same time 
Lord Forbes proposed for Lady Georgiana, but was 
124 



LADY CRAVEN 

told that he must wait for an answer until the party 
returned to England, as her guardians, Lord Boston 
and Lord Vere, must be consulted. The young lady, 
impatient of delay, confided to her sister her intention 
of running away with Lord Forbes ; but Elizabeth, by 
dint of threats and persuasions, prevailed on her to 
wait until she heard what her guardians had to say 
in the matter. 

In April the whole family was back in London. 
Lord Forbes"" offer was refused, chiefly, it appears, on 
the ground of his being a widower. Georgiana cried, 
and vowed that she would never marry any other man ; 
but Lady Berkeley tried to console her with the prospect 
of being presented at Court that season, when so many 
men would be in love with her that she would think no 
more of her first suitor. The presentation took place, 
and on the evening of the same day Lady Georgiana 
eloped with Lord Forbes. Great was the wrath of the 
young lady's family, while her guardian, Lord Boston, 
declared that he was the most unfortunate person alive, 
for he had never had but two wards. Miss Bayley (the 
first Lady Forbes) and Lady Georgiana Berkeley, and 
the same man had run away with both ! 

Elizabeth seems to have been punished for her sister's 
delinquencies. She was made to sleep in her mother's 
room until her marriage ; and as Lady Berkeley was con- 
tinually bemoaning the loss of her favourite daughter, 
poor Cinderella's lot was not a happy one. In the 
autumn of 1766 she was presented at Court, much 
against her own wishes, and thenceforward received 
enough admiration to have turned the head of any 
other girl ; but nothing — we have her own word for 
it — could ever make her vain. The Princess of Wales 

125 



LADY CRAVEN 

complimented Lady Berkeley upon her daughter's beauty, 
and the King's brother, the susceptible Duke of Cum- 
berland, was supposed to be in love with her. Eliza- 
beth, whose chosen role was one of modest timidity, 
declares that she hated all the men who made love to 
her, though she confesses to a tendrcsse for her cousin, 
the Marquis de Fitz James, grandson of the Duke of 
Berwick, who was violently in love with Lady Bell Stan- 
hope. Being refused by her, he came every day to pour 
out his woes to his little cousin, whose pity seems to have 
been very near akin to love. Her refusal to encourage 
any of her numerous lovers enraged Lady Berkeley, 
who attributed this reserve to pride and disdain. 

In order to free herself from continual reproaches, 
Elizabeth sent for one of her uncles, and created him, as 
she said, her ambassador. She told him that she was in 
constant terror lest her mother should compel her to 
marry a man whom she disliked, and therefore she wished 
to make a treaty to the effect that as long as she was 
not teased to accept any man who was disagreeable to 
her, she would agree to marry any suitor approved by 
Lady Berkeley to whom she herself had no personal 
objection. This treaty being concluded, Elizabeth en- 
joyed a fancied security, and amused herself in her own 
fashion. Her brother. Lord Berkeley, taught her to 
ride, shoot, and row, with a view to overcoming her 
natural timidity, while she was able to indulge her own 
taste for music and private theatricals. 

This happy freedom was not to last very long. Mr. 
Craven, the nephew and heir of Lord Craven, fell in 
love with her at first sight ; and though he had never 
been introduced to her, he sent a friend to propose for 
her hand. Elizabeth professed to be highly offended 
126 



LADY CRAVEN 

at this presumption ; but the match was evidently con- 
sidered too good to be refused point-blank, and it was 
arranged that the young couple should make each others 
acquaintance at a dinner at Richmond. Presumably, 
Elizabeth felt no actual repugnance to her latest suitor ; 
for negotiations were entered into with his uncles, who 
consented to lend him a house, and make him a suitable 
allowance on his marriage. During the period of wait- 
ing Mr, Craven, in accordance with what seems to have 
been the custom among the young men of his set, asked 
his fiancee to run away with him ; and when she, more 
prudent than her elder sister, refused, he declared that 
she could not be in love with him. Elizabeth confessed 
that she had never known love, but assured him that 
she felt both gratitude and regard for him, with which 
chilly comfort he had to be content. The wedding was, 
in some sort, the cause of a family reconciliation ; for 
Elizabeth, who had persuaded Lady Berkeley to forgive 
and receive the runaway Lady Forbes, insisted that 
Lord Nugent should allow her two young step-sisters to 
be her bridesmaids, though he had vowed that they 
should never enter their mother's house again. Among 
the wedding presents was a purse containing a hundred 
newly-coined guineas from old Lady Betty Germaine, 
with a slip of paper on which was written, ' To my dear 
niece. Lady Elizabeth Berkeley, the last time that I 
shall call her by that name.' 

In 1767, at the age of seventeen, our heroine was 
married, and during the next two years the couple lived at 
Ashdown Park, in Berkshire, where two daughters were 
born to them. ' Mr. Craven's attachment to me,' 
writes his wife, ' seemed to increase daily ; my manners 
were such a novelty to him that he has often told me 

127 



LADY CRAVEN 

he was as much alarmed at the delicacy of my mind as 
of my person."" Mr. Craven appears to have been 
neglected in his youth, having been left at Oxford by 
his guardians until he was one-and-thirty, with an 
allowance of only eighty pounds a year. Though Oxford 
was nominally his headquarters, he had spent his time 
in rambling from one country-house to another, hunting 
here and shooting there, until at last he became quite 
uneasy if he remained longer than three weeks in one 
place. ' Until I met you, my love,** he told his wife, ' I 
never stayed three days in one place." Elizabeth de- 
scribes him as having a good heart and sound judgment, 
but with no taste for art or literature. He was generous 
and extravagant, hated trouble, and had a bad habit of 
settling his accounts only once a year. His wife, who 
had been taught that weekly payments were a safer 
plan, asked for an allowance of pin-money ; and being 
given four hundred a year, told him that he should 
never be troubled by a bill of hers. Out of this income 
she founded a school for orphan girls at Newbury. 

Two years after his marriage Mr. Craven's uncle died, 
and he came into the title and a large property, which 
included Combe Abbey, near Coventry, and Benham 
House. A jointure of three thousand a year was settled 
on the new Lady Craven, and her husband delighted in 
procuring for her all the luxuries in his power. ' It 
was an eternal dispute between us,' she says ; ' he 
always offering presents, and I refusing whenever I 
could."" Lord Craven and his mother-in-law were con- 
tinually quarrelling in more serious fashion, Elizabeth 
being the usual subject of their disputes. ' Lady 
Berkeley,'' she writes, ' pretended that Lord Craven spoilt 
me ; and it appeared to excite her envy when he told 
128 



LADY CRAVEN 

her that nothing was good or great enough for my 
mind and person.' Elizabeth's chief fear was lest her 
husband should dissipate his fine fortune, the whole of 
which was at his own disposal. He offered to give her 
half his estates, and let her manage the whole, if she 
would pay him a yearly stipend ; but this offer, for- 
tunately for himself as it turned out, she had the sense 
to refuse. 

During the next few years Lady Craven was at the 
height of her social celebrity. Although she was the 
mother of several children, she preserved her looks, 
and was distinguished both for her beauty and her 
accomplishments. She is described as having magni- 
ficent auburn hair which reached below her knees, fine 
eyes, and a skin that showed every emotion by its 
varying coloui. Although she was painted by Angelica 
Kauffiiiann, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Romney, and Madame 
Vigee Le Brun, she expresses her regret in her later years 
that there was no portrait of her that did her justice, or 
was even like her. Madame Le Brun, she complains, 
made a hand and arm out of all proportion to the 
figure, while in the Romney portrait the face was too 
severe and the figure too large. 

Among the more interesting of Lady Craven's friends 
in London were Horace Walpole, Johnson, Garrick, 
Sir Joshua Reynolds, Mrs. Montagu, Charles Fox, Lord 
Thurlow, and Wilkes — a curious medley. She observes 
that her godmother. Lady Suffolk, ' does not appear to 
have been a favourite with Mr. Walpole, although I 
was ever regarded by him with esteem, notwithstanding 
that I made her a pattern for my manners. This 
probably arose from the reluctance I always showed to 
display my natural love for the Muses ; yet the press at 
I 129 



LADY CRAVEN 

Strawberry Hill has produced some of my poetry. Mr. 
Walpole was extremely witty on the subject of the three 
children which Lady Berkeley produced at one birth — 
an event which certainly was not a theme for a man of 
taste and learning.' From Walpole's own letters we 
know that he was much attached to his neighbour, 
Lady Suffolk ; and that although at one time he greatly 
admired Lady Craven, he did not always regard her 
with esteem. 

Boswell mentions the fact of Johnson's dining with 
' the beautiful, gay, and fascinating Lady Craven.' She 
tells us that he recommended her a tutor for her eldest 
son, and adds : ' I believe he would have been the most 
agreeable person in the world if he had had a female 
companion to suit him at home. The great fault I 
found with Johnson was the inveterate blame and con- 
tempt that he threw on all contempoi'ary writers. . . . 
I remember one day when vices were the topic of con- 
versation, he chose to defend drunkenness as the most 
innocent of all, and to prove his argument supposed me 
to be walking in the street and attacked by a drunken 
man. He ended his narrative by saying, " She might 
push him into the gutter with her little finger, and how 
impossible it must be for a man to do much mischief 
whom that little finger could repel ! . . ." One day in 
a tete-a-tete^ I asked him why he chose to do me the 
singular honour of sitting so often, and taking tea with 
me — " I, who am an ignorant woman, and who, if I 
have any share of wit or sense, am so afraid of you that 
my language and thoughts are locked up and fade away 
when I speak to you ? " He laughed very much, and 
said, " An ignorant woman ! The little I have perceived 
in your conversation pleases me." And then with an 
130 



LADY CRAVEN 

almost religious emphasis, he added, " I do like you ! " 
" And for what ? '^ I asked. He put his large hand 
upon my arm, and with an expression I shall never 
forget, pressed it, and said, " Because you are a good 
mother.'" ' 

On another occasion Johnson asked Reynolds why 
he had refused to finish the portrait of Lady Craven 
after she had given him several sittings. Sir Joshua 
answered, laughing, though somewhat confused, ' There 
is something so comical in the lady's face that all my 
art cannot describe it.' Johnson repeated the word 
* comical ' ten times in as many different tones, finishing 
in one of anger. Having decided that ' comical ' was 
not a fitting word to be applied to a beautiful lady's 
face, he gave Reynolds such a scolding that the poor 
painter must have wished that he had never seen his 
embarrassing sitter. 

Lady Craven, who dabbled in authorship herself, was 
attracted by the society of the blue-stockings. Of Mrs. 
Montagu's friendship she was particularly proud, because 
that lady never spoke to any one whom she did not con- 
sider a person of information. It was at Mrs. Montagu's 
suggestion that Madame de Vaucluse, the French novelist, 
Avho was then living in England, undertook the education 
of Lady Craven's four daughters. Madame de Vaucluse ^ 
is reported to have said of her pupils' mother, ' J'ai vu 
les femmes plus belles, peut-etre ; mais pour sa physi- 
onomie, grand Dieu ! j'ai lu, j'ai ecrit beaucoup de 



^ The adopted name of Mile, de Fauques, an ex-nun, who had been 
betrayed and deserted by an English 'milord.' She was French instruc- 
tress to Sir William Jones, and wrote a number of tales, sentimental and 
Oriental, as well as a Life of Madame de Pompadour, which was bought 
up by Louis xv. 

131 



LADY CRAVEN 

romans, mais elle les a tout dans sa physionomie/ Lady 
Craven tells us that she introduced Lord Thurlow to 
Madame de Vaucluse at his own special request, and the 
Chancellor was so well entertained by the Frenchwoman's 
conversation that when he went away he left his bag and 
seals behind him. With politics our heroine does not 
appear to have concerned herself, except that on one 
occasion she consented to drive through Coventry, wear- 
ing blue ribbons, in order to quell an election riot, in 
which object she was completely successful. ' Charles 
Fox,'' she says, ' almost quarrelled with me because I 
was unwilling to interfere in politics— a thing which I 
detested, and considered as being out of the province of 
a woman." 

It is in Horace Walpole's Letters that we hear most 
of Lady Craven during the period that she shone in 
London society, and indeed long after her star had set. 
In a letter to Lady Ossory, dated March 1773, he 
describes a magnificent fancy-dress ball that had been 
given by that most fascinating of French Ambassadors, 
the Due de Guines. Lady Craven danced in a Henri 
Quatre quadrille, together with the Princess Czartoriski, 
the beautiful Vernons, and the Due de Lauzun of scan- 
dalous memory. The intimacy with the French Ambas- 
sador and his friends led, as we shall see, to serious 
consequences for our heroine. A couple of years later 
Walpole and Lady Craven were on such terms of mutual 
admiration that they were exchanging copies of compli- 
mentary verses. He says in a letter to Lady Ossory : 
' I certainly did not send you Lady Craven's verses, nor 
intend it, though they are extremely pretty. She did 
not give me leave, and without it, you know I would 
not. Nay, I don't think I should even with her per- 
132 



LADY CRAVEN 

mission, for she makes an Apollo of me ; and if the eight 
other Muses called me so too, I would not accept the 
title without any pretensions."' 

Walpole, then nearly sixty, was evidently flattered by 
her ladyship's attentions ; for in February 1776 he writes 
to Mason : ' I shall take the liberty (Sir Residentiary) to 
trespass on your decorum by sending you an impromptu 
I wrote yesterday to pretty Lady Craven, who sent me 
an Eclogue of her own, every stanza of which ended with 
January^ and which she desired me not to criticise, as 
some of the rhymes were incorrect, a license I adopted in 
my second line — 

"Though lame and old, I do not burn 
With fretfulness to scare ye ; 
And charms and wit like yours would turn 

To May my January. 
The God who can inspire and heal 

Sure breathed your lines, sweet Fairy, 
For as I read, 1 feel, I feel, 
I 'm not quite January." 

Probably you would have liked better to have the 
Eclogue, but I had not leave to send it.' 

The Strawberry Hill press was presently called into 
requisition to print some of Lady Craven's works. In 
August 1778, Walpole has just printed seventy-five 
copies of The Sleep-ii)alliei\ a translation by Lady Craven 
of a comedy of Pont de Veyle. In 1780 Lady Craven 
wrote a story, with a flattering dedication ^ to Horace 
^ After observing that at Christmas he is generally confined to his fire- 
side by an unwelcome visitor (the gout), and therefore may be entertained 
by a new book, since he has read all the old ones, she continues : ' Among 
many foolish but true things you have heard me say, I once expressed 
a wish to be learned, and acknowledged that I was ignoraiice itself; and 
to encourage that ignorance you once advised me: "Despise what is 
called learning, give a loose to your imagination, correct by your heart, 
and profit by your taste. " ' 

133 



LADY CRAVEN 

Walpole, called Modern Anecdotes of the Family of 
KinkverankotspracTcengotchern. In a letter to Lady 
Ossory he says : ' I send your ladyship, as you order, 
Lady Craven's novel, which is, being very short, full of 
one long name, but not of long names. It is scarce a 
story, and I am told is a translation ; but it is very 
prettily told, and has, I will swear, several original 
expressions that are characteristic and must be her own. 
There is no mystery or secret about it, except that it 
was one to me for twenty-four hours, being sent to me 
anonymously, and I was all that time before I guessed 
the author. The reason of my not naming it, madam, 
you will find in my character, which abhors anything 
that looks like vanity.** 

In May of the same year Lady Craven wrote a play 
called Tlie Miniature Portrait. According to her own 
account, Sheridan got possession of it under pretence of 
writing an epilogue for it ; and then, without permission, 
brought it out at Drury Lane, where it was played for 
three nights. Although she professed to be enraged at 
Sheridan's audacity. Lady Craven attended one of the 
representations in state. Walpole gives an amusing 
description of the affair in a letter to Mason. ' There 
has been such an uncommon event,' he begins, ' that I 
must give you some account of it, as it relates to the 
Republic of Poetry, of which you are President, and to 
the Aristocracy of Noble Authors, to whom I am Gentle- 
man Usher. Lady Craven's comedy, called The Miniature 
Picture^ which she acted herself with a genteel set at her 
own house in the country, has been played at Drury 
Lane. The chief singularity was that she went to it 
herself the second night in form ; sat in the middle of 
the front row of the stage-box, much dressed, with a 
134 



LADY CRAVEN 

profusion of white bugles and plumes to receive the 
public honour due to her sex and loveliness. The 
Duchess of Richmond, I.ady Harcourt, Lady Edgecumbe, 
Lady Aylesbury, Mrs. Darner, Lord Craven, General 
Conway, Colonel O'Hara, and I were with her. It was 
amazing to see so young a woman entirely possess her- 
self ; but there is such an integrity and frankness in her 
consciousness of her own beauty and talents, that she 
speaks of them with a ndiveU as if she had no property in 
them, but only wore them as gifts of the gods. Lord 
Craven, on the contrary, was quite agitatetl by his fond- 
ness for her, and with impatience at the bad performance 
of the actors, which was wretched indeed. Yet the 
address of the plot, which is the chief merit of the piece, 
and some lively pencilling, carried it off very well, though 
Parsons murdered the Scotch lord, and Mrs. Robinson 
[Perdita], who is supposed to be the favourite of the 
Prince of Wales, thought on nothing but her charms or 
him. There is a very good though endless Prologue, 
written by Sheridan, and spoken in perfection by King, 
which was encored (an entire novelty) the first night ; 
and an Epilogue that I liked still better, and which 
was full as well delivered by Mrs. Abington, written by 
Mr. Jekyll. 

' The audience, though very civil, missed a fair oppor- 
tunity of being gallant ; for in one of these logues, 

I forget which, the noble authoress was mentioned, and 
they did not applaud, as they ought to have done exceed- 
ingly, when she condescended to avow her pretty child, 
and was there looking so very pretty. I could not help 
thinking how many deaths Lady Harcourt would have 
suffered rather than encounter such an exhibition ; yet 
Lady Craven's tranquillity had nothing displeasing — it 

135 



LADY CRAVEN 

was only the ease that conscious pre-eminence bestows on 
Sovereigns, whether their empire consists in power or 
beauty. It was the ascendant of Millamont and Lady 
Betty Modish and Indamore ; and it was tempered by 
her infinite good-nature, which made her make excuses 
for the actors instead of being provoked at them. I 
have brought hither her portrait [by Romney] and 
placed it in the favourite Blue Room.' 

One cannot help reflecting how scornful and sarcastic 
Walpole would have been over the whole incident if Lady 
Craven had been plain, middle-aged, and insignificant, 
instead of a beauty and a great lady. As it was, her 
accomplishments and her attractions, combined with her 
appreciation of himself, roused him to a quite unusual 
pitch of enthusiasm. On the Romney portrait, with 
which the original was so dissatisfied, he wrote the 
following lines : — 

' Full many an artist has on canvas fix'd 
All charms that Nature's pencil ever mix'd, 
The witching of her eyes, the grace that tips 
The inexpressible douceur of her lips : 
Romney alone in this fair image caught 
Each charm's expression and each feature's thought ; 
And shows how in their sweet assembly sit 
Taste, spirit, softness, sentiment, and wit.' 

Walpole certainly did his best as log-roller to the 
lady whom Lord Strafford called his Sappho. In another 
letter to Mason he says : ' Pray read a little book, no 
bigger than a silver penny, called a Christmas-box, for 
me — yes, for me. It is a story that is no story, or 
scarce one ; it is a sort of imitation of Voltaire, yet per- 
fectly original. There is nature, character, simplicity, 
and carelessness throughout ; observation without preten- 
136 




ELIZABETH BERKELEY. COUNTESS OF CRAVEN. 

FROM THE ORIOINAL PORMEPiY AT STRAWIJ-E-RHT HILl. 



LADY CRAVEN 

sions, and I believe a good deal of truth in some of the 
incidents, that I take to have happened. My vanity 
may have interested me too much, though I see it as a 
thing not likely to please ; but if you read it twice, 
which its brevity will easily allow, I think you will see 
real merit in it, especially when you know the author is 
young."* 

In 1779, Lady Craven's youngest son, Richard Keppel, 
was born. One of his godfathers was Admiral Keppel, 
then at the height of his national popularity. The 
christening took place just after the court-martial which 
the Admiral had insisted on having in consequence of 
the criticisms upon his operations against the Rrest fleet. 
The whole of London went wild with delight over the 
justificatory verdict; the town was illuminated for three 
nights ; and on the evening of the baby KeppePs christen- 
ing Lady Craven's porter was unable to close the hall 
door between half-past seven and half-past eleven in 
consequence of the fashionable crowds who came to offer 
their congratulations to her and the famous godfather. 
The result of all this fatigue and excitement was that 
the mother was taken ill with a kind of fit and lost her 
speech for several hours. She was repeatedly attacked 
in this way, until at last she was ordered to Bristol, only 
as it was supposed to die. While she was at Bristol 
the famous Jenner came to pay his respects to her, and 
had the courage to inform Lord Craven that in his 
opinion the invalid was being wrongly treated. He 
received permission to undertake her treatment himself, 
attended her to Combe Abbey, and did not leave her 
until she was in a fair way of recovery. 

The following winter Lady Craven made the un- 
pleasant discovery that, when her husband told her that 

137 



LADY CRAVEN 

he was going into the country to hunt, he actually re- 
mained in London, though not in his own house. The 
mystery was explained by the fact that he had formed an 
attachment for a married woman, living apart from her 
husband, who had obtained a great influence over him. 
Lady Craven took no notice of the affair until Lord 
Macartney called upon her to beg that she would try 
and prevent her husband from travelling in one of her 
own coaches with a woman who called herself Lady 
Craven, and conducted herself in such a fashion as to 
tarnish the character of the real owner of the name. 
' If Lord Berkeley hears of this,"* added Lord Macartney, 
' he will certainly call Lord Craven out.' As soon as 
his lordship returned to his home, his wife told him that 
she had a favour to ask of him, namely, that he would 
not allow his mistress to call herself Lady Craven. ' He 
looked much confused,"" she continues, ' and asked how 
long I had known that he had a mistress. I replied, 
" Above a twelvemonth," whereupon he exclaimed, " By 
G — , you are the best-tempered creature in the 
world, for I have never suspected that you knew this." ■" 
Further remonstrances, and a threat of separation, only 
served to exasperate Lord Craven, who, after assuring 
his wife that her rival was ' a very good sort of woman,' 
departed with the lady for a six weeks' tour on the 
Continent. 

The quarrel seems to have been patched up for the 
time being; for in April 1782 Walpole mentions 
having been present at ' a kind of pastoral opera written 
by Lady Craven, and acted prettily by her own and 
other children ; you will scold me again for not telling 
you the title, but in truth I forgot to ask it. There 
was imagination in it, but not enough to carry off" five 
138 



LADY CRAVEN 

acts. The Chancellor [Thurlow] j was there en titre 
(Toffice^ not as head of the law, but as cicisbeo to the 
authoress, — his countenance is so villainous that he 
looked more like assassin to the husband. Lady Har- 
court said he wanted nothing but a red coat and a black 
wig to resemble the murderers in Macbeth.'' 

The following Christmas, when the family were at 
Combe Abbey for the holidays. Lord Craven suddenly 
informed his wife that he was going to London, and 
added, ' When I go, I shall never see your face again.' 
To this startling announcement she answered, ' That is, 
you mean to part with me.' Upon his assenting, she 
observed : ' The parting of a husband and wife who have 
lived together thirteen years, and had seven children, 
and the fortunes of those children at the mercy of a 
father misled, is a thing of too great consequence to 
those children for me not to take the best advice on 
such an event.' Lord Craven set out for London next 
day, and his wife never saw him again. She remained 
to entertain the visitors who had been invited to spend 
Christmas at the Castle ; but as soon as these had 
departed, she too went to town, and sent for her eldest 
brother. Lord Berkeley declined to give her any advice 
until he had heard Lord Craven's reason for parting 
with her. When she assured him that she had done 
nothing to cause her husband the slightest uneasiness, 
' Lord Berkeley turned his back and walked out of 
the room.' 

Her next step was to consult Lord Loughborough,^ 
then Lord Chancellor, who flew into a passion with 

^ Thurlow was then in his fifty-second year. 

^ The Great Seal was then in commission, but Loughborough was first 
commissioner. 

139 



LADY CRAVEN 

Lord Craven, and declared that the man must be mad. 
He advised her to prosecute her husband, and assured 
her that the law would allow her four or five thousand 
a year, and the society of her daughters. Being reluctant 
to take such an extreme step, Lady Craven next sent for 
her old friend and admirer, Lord Thurlow, and told him 
she understood that if she were to prosecute her husband, 
she would obtain redress. ' Redress ! "" exclaimed Lord 
Thurlow, ' for what ? The man does injury to himself. 
But, tell me, is it true that Lord Craven has the whole 
of his large fortune at his own disposal ? "* Being 
informed that he had. Lord Thurlow asked whether 
she would ever forgive herself if she did not make every 
effort to preserve that fortune for her seven children, as 
she had none to give them herself ; and pointed out 
that, as Lord Craven had placed himself in her power by 
his folly, he must give her at least her marriage settle- 
ment. He then suggested that she should go where 
she pleased, taking one, at least, of her children with 
her ; but added, ' Leave your daughters with your Lord ; 
otherwise that woman will go and live in all your fine 
places, and gain the entire and unlimited ascendency 
over Lord Craven's mind."* This advice was so far 
followed that Lady Craven decided to go to Paris for 
a time, taking the three-year-old Keppel with her. 
Before setting out, a promise was obtained from Lord 
Craven that her other children should write to her once 
a fortnight, and that when she returned to England 
she should be allowed to see them when and where she 
pleased. She undertook, on her part, to deliver up 
Keppel to his father as soon as he was eight years old. 

So far we have followed Lady Craven's own account 
of the circumstances that led to her separation, in 
140 



LADY CRAVEN 

which she poses as a deeply injured wife. She professes 
to be famous for her veracity, and relates how when 
George iii. wanted to know the truth about any Court 
gossip, he used to ask, ' What does Lady Craven say ? 
She always speaks the truth." But in the matter of her 
separation it is to be feared that Lady Craven allowed 
herself a little licence. At any rate, her contemporaries 
seem to have thought that Lord Craven had some cause 
for his apparent harshness. The Due de Lauzun, who 
was in London in 1773, says in his Memoirs that at this 
time the Due de Guines was openly the lover of ' une 
jolie petite femme, que sa fatuite et les malheurs 
qu'elle a pense causer, ont rendu celebre a PAngleterre. 
Douce, simple, tendre, il etait impossible de voir Lady 
Craven sans s'y interesser." His folly and her imprudence 
led to a scandal ; Lord Craven shut up his wife in the 
country, and threatened to bring an action against de 
Guines, and claim £10,000 in damages. The Due de 
Lauzun and his belle amie, the Princess Czartoriski, did 
their best to help the foolish pair. De Guines had 
asked Lady Craven to fly with him, and his career de- 
pended on her reply. The Ambassador had recently 
been involved in a vexatious lawsuit against his secretary, 
and his appearance in a fresh cause celebre would have 
been most damaging to an already tarnished reputation. 
The Princess Czartoriski forced her way to Lady Craven, 
advised her how to act, and for the time being saved 
the situation. 

In her Autobiography Lady Craven alludes to M. de 
Guines — who was recalled to France in 1776 — in the 
most unembarrassed fashion. She observes that he had 
one habit which made her watch and fear him, namely, 
that of appearing to admire great powers only to draw 

14] 



LADY CRAVEN 

them out, and turn them to his own advantage. In 
private life he was a delightful companion, and one of 
the best flute-players of his day. He was anxious to 
learn English, and insisted that Lady Craven should 
converse with him in that language ; but his mistakes, 
whether purposely or not, were so inconvenantes that she 
was obliged to ask him to confine himself to his own 
tongue. ' At the time of the Revolution," she relates, 
' I saw this nobleman in Paris, without a son to live on, 
cherished by Madame de Boufflers and other old friends. 
His despair at seeing Royalty and the nobility crushed 
was so great that he would no longer trouble himself 
about anything.' 

Although de Guines was in England with his family 
in 1783, it does not appear that his presence contri- 
buted to the Craven separation. As usual, we must turn 
to Strawberry Hill for the floating gossip of the time. 
In a letter to his niece, the Duchess of Gloucester, dated 
March 13, 1783, Walpole writes: 'You must have 
seen in the papers much gross abuse of a pretty 
ingenious friend of mine for a low amour with one of 
her own servants, for which I seriously believe there was 
not the smallest foundation. The charge is now re- 
moved to much higher quarters, which, at least, are 
more creditable. The town has for these ten days 
affirmed that the Lord husband was going to cite into 
the Spiritual Court the head of the Temporal one — 
nay, and the third chief of the Common Law — nay, 
and the second of the Spiritual one too.^ Such con- 
quests would be very honourable in the records of Love, 

^ Presumably Lord Thurlow, Lord Loughborough, and the Archbishop 
of York, whom Mason alludes to as Lady Craven's ' lawn-sleeved Phaon ' 
(Dec. 4, 1782). 

142 



LADY CRAVEN 

and the first very diverting, as the hero has so much 
distinguished himself by severity on Bills of divorce. I 
do not warrant any of these stories, but must totally 
discredit that of the domestic. A prude may begin 
with a footman, and a gallant woman may end with 
one ; but a pretty woman who has so many slaves in 
high life does not think of a livery, especially where 
vanity is the principal ingredient in her composition.' 

Lady Craven spent the early part of 1783 in Paris, 
or rather at Versailles, where she took a house called 
the Pavilion de la Joncherre. She professes to have 
been well received ; but it appears that she was not 
invited to the weekly receptions given by the Duchesse 
de Polignac, who had an allowance from the Queen for 
the purpose of entertaining distinguished foreigners. 
Lady Craven attributes the slight to jealousy, and says 
that the Duke of Dorset, the English Ambassador, told 
her that Madame de Polignac had tormented him with 
questions about his countrywomen. In answer to her 
queries — ' Est-elle aussi jolie — a-t-elle autant d'esprit 
que le monde dit ? ' he replied, ' We have twenty women 
at Court more beautiful than Lady Craven ; mais pour 
les graces et Tesprit, pas une.' 

Lady Craven asserts that the Queen and her sister-in- 
law, Madame Elizabeth, were anxious that she should 
settle at Versailles in order that they might visit her 
as a friend. With this end in view they are supposed 
to have set the Court milliner to spy upon her, pre- 
sumably that they might satisfy themselves as to her 
mode of life. The milliner inquired the name of a 
gentleman who visited regularly at the Pavilion de la 
Joncherre ; and Lady Craven, without resenting this 
curiosity, replied that it was the Margrave of Anspach, 

143 



LADY CRAVEN 

and explained that ' he had known me from my child- 
hood, and had conceived for me the same partiality 
that all who had known me from my infancy retained 
for me/ 

On one occasion, when Lady Craven and her child 
were in the chapel at Versailles, Marie Antoinette and 
her sister-in-law passed by ; and being struck by the 
beauty of the little Keppel, sent to inquire who he was. 
On their return the Royal ladies stopped opposite Lady 
Craven, and curtseying repeatedly, said, ' Restez avec 
nous, Madame."" Our heroine was looked askance upon 
by her own countrywomen, judging by a sentence in a 
letter dated March 1783 from Lady Bristol to her 
daughter. Lady Elizabeth Foster, who was then staying 
in Paris. ' You don't mention Lady Craven," says the 
writer, ' so I hope she is gone some other way. You 
must have no intercourse there at all. She is quite 
undone, and has not an atom of character left."" 

In the circumstances, it is rather curious that Lady 
Craven's younger brother, Captain Berkeley, together 
with his wife and her mother. Lady Louisa Lennox, 
should have stayed at the Pavilion on their way to the 
south of France. In the course of the summer Lord 
Berkeley wrote to propose that he should meet his sister 
in Florence the following November, and spend the 
winter with her. ' My brother,' she tells us, ' had ever 
given but one reason for refusing to marry ; he said he 
would never marry until he could find a woman like me 
in temper and talents. Unfortunately, the woman he 
did marry was unlike me in every respect.' Flattered 
by her brother's desire for her companionship. Lady 
Craven placed her little boy with a tutor in Paris, and 
set out upon her travels alone. She corresponded 
144 



LADY CRAVEN 

regularly during this time with the Margrave, who had 
invited her to come and live at his Court as soon as she 
was tired of wandering, in the character of his adopted 
sister. In her letters she addresses him as her 'dear 
brother,' and signs herself ' your affectionate sister/ 

Two editions of Lady Craven's Correspondence with 
the Margrave were published: the first in 1789; the 
second, which is rather fuller, in 1812. The Letters 
were translated into French and German, and highly 
praised by Grimm, who was also a correspondent of the 
Margrave's. For the modern reader it is to be feared that 
they would have few attractions, since they are neither 
well written nor amusing, nor even indiscreet, while the 
information they contain is extracted, for the most part, 
from guide-books or works of reference. Their only 
merit arises from the fact that the writer, who had 
evidently taken Lady Mary Wortley Montagu for her 
model, travelled in such out-of-the-way regions as the 
Crimea, Turkey, the Grecian Islands, and Wallachia, 
whither few English ladies had ever penetrated. Lady 
Craven must be credited with a large allowance of 
courage and enterprise ; but it is a pity that a lady who 
was famed for her vivacity of spirits and brilliant con- 
versational powers should not have contrived to be more 
amusing on paper. 

PART II 

Lady Craven's first published letter to the Margrave 
is dated Paris, June 1785, and begins : — 

'For the first time in my life, sir, I invoke that 
guardian angel who has hitherto protected me from 
many a precipice, into which female vanity might have 
K 145 



LADY CRAVEN 

hurled me headlong, to preserve me from that inordi- 
nate pride which I must feel if I believe half what you 
are pleased to say. You call me incredule^ msaaciante. 
Oh, I am neither. I do believe you think all you say 
of me. I will be your sister ; and by accepting of your 
adoption prove to you that I also believe what you say 
to me. I will indeed be your sister ; but let me show 
the world, the envious world, I deserve to be so. I 
cannot reside at Anspach unless the Margravine con- 
sents, approves of it, and thinks, as you say, your sister's 
graces would gild with charms — would cheer, like the 
sun, the gloomy darkness of a German Court.' 

Having given her own version of her relations with 
her husband. Lady Craven proceeds to retail a little of 
the Parisian gossip of the day. Her old admirer, the 
Due de Guines, had just called upon her to inquire the 
names of all the English heiresses who were marriageable, 
because the Duchesse de Polignac thought of giving a 
rich English heiress to her son. Lady Craven says she 
gravely suggested that the Duchess should go to Eng- 
land, and choose which of the great heiresses then in 
society she would give to her son, ' and one of the most 
Jins persifleurs I ever saw did not perceive that I was 
laughing at him.' The Morning Post, after its custom 
at that time, had been making free with Lady Craven's 
name ; and she observes, a propos of its delinquencies, that 
the liberty of the press is but another word for the most 
profligate licentiousness, and utters a pious wish that 
her brother would cut off* some newsmonger's nose. ' The 
vulgar English' in Paris had also been spreading tales 
about her manner of life, and she is both surprised and 
hurt that the Duchesse de Polignac does not invite her 
to her parties. Her faithful admirer. Lord Thurlow, 
146 



LADY CRAVEN 

had lately paid a first visit to Paris, and, John Bull- 
like, had refused to see anything beautiful in the environs, 
declaring that the country round was nothing but a 
great stone quarry. She concludes with the expression 
of her belief that Providence had decreed that Lord 
Craven should part with her in order that she might 
cheer the setting sun of the Margrave's life [he was then 
forty-nine], the only man in whom she had not found an 
inclination to despise the other sex. 

The first part of Lady Craven's travels over the well- 
beaten tracks of France and Italy contains little that is 
either novel or interesting. She travelled with her own 
chariot and saddle-horse, and at Genoa took the some- 
what unusual course of hiring a felucca, with three 
shoulder-of-mutton sails and ten oars, to take her to 
Leghorn. But finding the boat alive with vermin, and 
getting bored with the singing of the sailors, who 
chanted the Hymn to the Virgin for hours at a stretch, 
she landed at Via Regio, and rode to Pisa, where she 
hired a house for a few weeks. Both horse and rider 
created wonder and admiration in the minds of the 
simple Italians. Not being accustomed to the sight of 
a lady riding on a side-saddle, the people used to 
exclaim, ' Poor thing ! Only one leg ! ' as she passed. 
' An English person in Italy,' says Lady Craven, ' meets 
with a homage little short of adoration. The very 
peasants look in my face and say, " Cara — cara Inglese." "■ 
For her fine Suffolk horse she was offered, over and over 
again, any price she liked to ask ; but, as she said, more 
truly perhaps than she intended, « A good woman's horse 
is so difficult to be had, that I can't think how anybody 
can part with one.' 

From Pisa Lady Craven went on to Florence, where 

147 



LADY CRAVEN 

her arrival had been heralded by a letter from Walpole 
to Sir Horace Mann, dated October 30, 1785, in which 
the lord of Strawberry Hill says : ' I did send you a 
line last week in the cover of a letter to Lady Craven, 
which I knew would sufficiently tell your quickness how 
much I shall be obliged to you for any attentions to 
her. I thought her at Paris, and was surprised to hear 
of her at Florence. She has been, I fear, hifinitamente 
indiscreet ; but what is that to you or me ? She is very 
pretty, has parts, and is good-natured to the greatest 
degree; has not a grain of malice or mischief (almost 
always the associates, in women, of tender hearts), and 
has never been an enemy but to herself." 

Lady Craven was delighted with Florence, and more 
especially with the Tribune. She declares that she 
thinks and dreams of nothing but the pictures and 
statues ; and if she had no children, would be tempted to 
spend the rest of her days in the Tribune, where the 
vulgar idle tales of real life never came to her mind. 
The Florentine ladies she thought very like the English, 
and found them more good-natured than the French, as 
they did not whisper or criticise their own sex. Sir 
Horace Mann, usually so civil to travellers who brought 
introductions from Walpole, does not seem to have 
impressed her very favourably. She says that he 
grumbles at the follies of the young Englishmen who 
passed through Florence on the Grand Tour, without 
making any effort to help or influence them. The 
Grand Duke, at this time, kept no court, but any 
person of suitable rank could be presented to him. 
Lady Craven, with unusual prudence, refrained from 
asking the Minister to introduce her into the royal 
circle, observing that ' if sovereigns hide their light in 
148 



LADY CRAVEN 

corners, .strangers are foolish to go and seek them 
out.' 

Lord Berkeley failed to keep his promise to meet his 
sister in Florence. It was in this year that he began 
his connection with Miss Coles, whom he married in 
1796. His assertion that he had gone through the 
ceremony with her in March 1785 led, after his death 
in 1810, to the Berkeley cause celebre. The eldest son 
William, born in 1786, presented a petition to the 
Crown for a writ of summons as Earl Berkeley ; but 
doubts having arisen as to the alleged first marriage, 
the petition was referred to the House of Lords, who 
decided that the petitioner had not substantiated his 
claims. 

Lady Craven, being disappointed by her brother, 
decided to go further afield, and see courts and people 
that few women had ever seen. She set her face north- 
ward ; and passing through Venice, travelled to Vienna, 
where, if we may trust her own account, she was made 
much of in Court circles. Of Sir Robert Keith, our 
English Minister, she writes : He is lively, sensible, and 
polite, and behaves like a friend and brother to all the 
thoughtless young Englishmen. As to me, a few hours 
after my arrival he came to me, and with a gay sort of 
delight, he rubbed his hands, saying, " At last I have 
an Englishwoman — a Peeress — they will see what an 
English Peeress is — ought to be," he added. " Nay, don't 
think I am flattering, you want no foil ; but if you did, 
I have only had two countrywomen here ; one good, to 
be sure, but silent and inanimate as a statue ; the other 

a fury. Now, indeed ' Sir Roberfs only anxiety 

was lest Lady Craven should appear at the big dinner 
he was about to give for her in the latest French fashion 

149 



LADY CRAVEN 

— a chemise and hat ! He was much relieved when she 
assured him that her gown would be pearl satin and 
lace, and that her head when dressed had no ornament 
but her own hair. 

Lady Craven was granted a private audience of two 
hours by the Emperor Joseph, who ordered his Minister, 
Prince Kaunitz, to prepare one of his houses for her in 
the hope that she might pass the winter in Vienna. 
When the Prince delivered the message he told her that 
' His Majesty says he never saw any woman with the 
modest, dignified deportment of Lady Craven.' The 
Emperor being unmarried at this time, Lady Craven 
professes to have been terrified at the high opinion that 
he expressed of her ; and after a stay of only ten days in 
the Austrian capital, she fled, ' like a frightened bird," 
to Warsaw. Here she was cordially received by the 
King, who, she says, ' was the second person I have seen 
whom I could have wished not to be a sovereign."' His 
Majesty, who spoke both French and German fluently, 
said that he had not been in England for thirty years, 
and asked if Mr. Walpole were still living. 'Not only 
living, sire, but in good spirits," was her reply ; ' and I 
have in my pocket a letter from him.' The King said 
(rather indiscreetly) that he should like a sight of it, as 
Mr. Walpole's style must be uncommon. After reading 
it, his Majesty said that he should translate it into 
French for the benefit of his sister, the Princess of 
Cracovia. Lady Craven told him of the little story she 
had written with the purpose of diverting Mr. Walpole's 
gout, and explained that she had begun by fearing him 
very much ; ' but his partiality for me, and the protec- 
tion he had given to my pen, had emboldened me to 
compose for his amusement."' 
150 



LADY CRAVEN 

While at Warsaw Lady Craven visited her former 
friend, the Princess Czartoriski, who was living in the 
neighbourhood. ' When I told her what had made me 
resolve to quit England,' she writes, ' she desired I should 
never return there ; and said that clubs, fox-hunting, 
and racing made the men, however well inclined by 
nature or education, unfit for the society of polished 
great ladies. I assured her I could add newspapers, 
port and claret. Parliamentary opposition, and want of 
taste, that would make me reside out of England when- 
ever I could.' 

The middle of winter was a curious time to choose 
for a journey through Poland and Russia, and the tra- 
veller found no little difficulty in getting to St. Peters- 
burg. Her chariot was taken off its wheels and put 
upon a sledge ; but the roads being very narrow, it was 
often hung up upon the trees, and on one occasion some 
peasants had to be requisitioned to cut down a tree 
before it could be disentangled. On arriving at St. 
Petersburg, Lady Craven was invited to L'Hermitage 
(where she saw the recently purchased Houghton pic- 
tures), and graciously received by the Empress Catherine. 
' There is nothing,'' she says, ' either grand or dignified 
in the Empress's person ; and as to her face, it is not like 
any picture I have ever seen of her. She has a face like 
ten thousand others ; small grey eyes, and a nose that 
does not lend any grandeur to a set of features that 
have none. She has the remains of a fine skin ; and 
when she smiles, it is not the grin of gracious majesty 
that condescends to smile.' 

Lady Craven was taken to see the old Princess 
Romanzof, the Empress's first maid-of-honour, who was 
ninety years old. ' I am so old,' she told her visitor, ' that 

151 



LADY CRAVEN 

I have seen your great Duke of Marlborough and his 
Duchess at the Hague. He was so stingy, that when 
his black silk stockings had holes in them, they were 
darned with white thread. As to his beautiful Duchess, 
she used to get tipsy on rum punch.'' Lady Craven was 
also invited to dine with Prince Potemkin in an immense 
palace that he was building. The only room finished 
was three hundred feet long, and she came home quite 
ill with the cold, and bored into the bargain ; for she says 
that she never heard the sound of her host's voice except 
when he asked what she would take to eat. Lady Craven 
observes that Peter the Great made a huge mistake when 
he transferred his capital from Moscow to St. Petersburg ; 
' for although the Empress does all she can to invite 
politeness, science, and comforts to cheer this region of 
ice, until she can alter the climate I believe it is a fruit- 
less attempt.** 

Lady Craven does not allude to the fact of her having 
any travelling companion ; but Horace Walpole, in a letter 
to Sir Horace Mann, dated March 16, 1786, says : ' Lord 
and Lady Spencer are arrived — and now I suppose the 
adventures of a certain lady and her cousin Vernon^ which 
I have kept profoundly secret, will be made public. I 
have lately received a letter from the Lady from 
Petershurgh ; luckily, she gave me no direction to her, 
no more than from Venice ; so, if necessary, I shall plead 
that I did not know whether I must direct next to 
Grand Cairo or Constantinople. Petersburgh I think a 
very congenial asylum ; the Sovereign has already fostered 
the Ducal Countess of' Bristol [Miss Chudleigh] — for in 
the family of Hervey double dignities couple with facility. 
Formerly our outlaws used to concentre at Boulogne ; 
they are now spread over the face of the earth. Mr. 
152 



LADY CRAVEN 

Vcrjions cousin tells me she has also been at Warsaw ; 
that she showed the King a letter of mine, who put it 
into his pocket, translated it into French (though return- 
ing the original), and would send it to his sister, the 
Princess of Cracovia, at Vienna ; so I may see it in an 
Utrecht gazette ! I know not what it contained ; how- 
ever, I comfort myself that I have never dealt with my 
heroine but in compliments or good advice ; but this 
comes of corresponding with strolling Roxanes/ 

In a letter from Paris, Lady Craven had told the 
Margrave that Mr. Vernon had heard an Englishman in 
a diligence talking scandal about her, and adds, ' You 
may imagine the rage of Vernon, whose wife on her 
deathbed bequeathed to him all her partiality for me."* 
The only mention of him during her travels is in a letter 
from Vienna, in which she describes how she shocked 
Mr. Vernon and the company generally by asserting that 
Lady Mary Wortley Montagu had not written the 
letters that were attributed to her. ' Lady Mary,' she 
observes, ' was sensible and accomplished, and had a 
style of her own that would easily have been distinguish- 
able from that of another woman who wrote well. Judge, 
then, if I can consent to acknowledge that I take the 
soft graceful hand of a lady when I feel the scratches of 
the cloven claw of a male scholar in every line. Lady 
Bute told me that Horace Walpole and two other wits 
joined to divert themselves at the expense of the credulity 
of the public by composing these letters.'' 

Lady Craven now decided to travel through the 
Crimea eji route for Constantinople, though she had been 
solemnly warned by the Russians that she would find 
the air unwholesome, and the water poisonous. Nothing 
daunted, she hired a couple of the carriages of the 

153 



LADY CRAVEN 

country called kibitkas, which were made in the form of 
cradles, so that the occupant could lie at full length. 
These were slung on sledges ; but the snow tracks were 
so worn and rough that travelling was far from pleasant, 
and the carriage was twice upset on the way to Moscow. 
The horses, she says, were obedient to the least motion 
of their driver's hand, and were never touched with the 
whip on a journey, but their docility was the result of 
unmerciful beating in the stable. Lady Craven, who 
had the despotic temper of a beauty of the old regime, 
was favourably impressed with the serf system as prac- 
tised in Russia, and evidently yearned to import some 
system of slavery into her own country, to say nothing 
of a vigorous censorship of the press. 

The traveller reached Moscow in safety on February 
29, and after a short stay proceeded to Cherson, where 
she arrived on March 12. Part of the journey was 
performed under the escort of a Cossack guard, who 
believed that they were escorting a corpse, because 
the carriage was closed. When it was opened in the 
morning, and the occupant looked out, they scattered 
in terror, fancying that the corpse had suddenly come 
to life. The way was enlivened by a sham fight 
performed by the Cossacks and a visit to a Tartar 
encampment, where her ladyship was introduced to 
the Grand IQiam himself. At Sebastopol she found 
a French frigate of thirty-six guns, under disguise of a 
merchant- vessel, fitted out for her use. The voyage to 
Pera was only supposed to take two days, but on this 
occasion the ship was becalmed for three days, and it 
was not till the seventh that the Turkish coast came in 
sight. Then the startling discovery was made that the 
Greek pilot was dead drunk. The officers were greatly 
154 



LADY CRAVEN 

alarmed, as none of them knew the coast, and their only 
guide was a small map of the Black Sea belonging to 
Lady Craven. She dressed herself in a riding habit, 
and taking a small box in one hand and an umbrella (!) 
in the other, told the captain that she should get into a 
boat and land somewhere on the Turkish shore rather 
than lose sight of the entrance to the harbour. 

These extreme measures did not prove necessary, 
and on April 20 the frigate safely anchored in the 
bay, and the traveller was rowed to Pera. The Comte 
de Choiseul,^ then French Ambassador at Constan- 
tinople, had received orders to show her hospitality, 
and she was luxuriously lodged in the Palais de France. 
The Count was then employing artists to draw for him 
all the finest ruins in Europe and Asia, which enlight- 
ened liberality resulted in the splendid collection now in 
the Louvre. Lady Craven spent hours looking over the 
drawings, and was also able to indulge her taste for 
music, the Count having routed out a piano and a harp 
for her use. When she went out she was carried in one 
of the Ambassador's chairs by six Turks, with two jan- 
issaries walking in front. ' I believe,' she writes, ' people 
think it so singular a thing for a lady to come here 
without being obliged, that they try to keep me as long 
as they can."* 

Lady Craven was allowed to visit the harem of the 
' Captain Pacha,' or Lord High Admiral, then in almost 
supreme power, who kept a pet lion which used to 
follow him to Cabinet meetings, and frighten the other 
ministers out of their wits. The women, she says, spoilt 
their beauty with white and red paint ill applied, teeth 
black with smoking, and shoulders rounded by their 
1 Author of the Voyage pittoresqiie en Grece. 

155 



LADY CRAVEN 

habit of sitting cross-legged. She makes the somewhat 
astonishing statement that the Turks set an example to 
the men of all other nations in their conduct towards 
their women, and declares that the Turkish ladies ought 
to be very happy, being kept in so much luxury, and 
allowed so much liberty ! Another interesting sight 
was that of the Sultan going to prayers, with a green 
umbrella over his head, the ribs of which were set with 
diamonds. At this time the Porte had refused to pro- 
vide new batteries, on the ground of shortness of money ; 
yet the jewellers could not find jewels enough to supply 
his harem. 

After a cruise among the Grecian islands, and a visit to 
Athens in a little frigate lent by the Comte de Choiseul, 
Lady Craven decided to travel back to Vienna through 
the untrodden ways of Wallachia and Hungary. The 
Porte, being asked by de Choiseul to allow a Tchonadar, 
or Vizier"'s servant, to escort the traveller as far as 
Bucharest, sent an official, not to inquire into the lady's 
rank, as might have been expected, but to see whether 
she was pretty enough to be worth the trouble. The 
man made so favourable a report, that the Sultan could 
not do enough for the lady"'s comfort and safety, and 
the only wonder is that he allowed her to leave his 
dominions. The Tchonadar proved an unmitigated 
nuisance on the journey, all the delays being made on 
his account, while his wants had to be attended to 
first, and he invariably tried to get the best rooms for 
himself. 

However, in spite of many difficulties and annoyances, 
the long rough journey to Bucharest was safely accom- 
plished. At night the party halted with the caravans 
for safety ; and though by day the horses had to be 
156 



LADY CRAVEN 

rested every ten minutes on account of the heat, the 
dews were so heavy that in the morning the travellers 
looked as though they had all been dragged through a 
river. On entering Wallachia, they progressed at a 
great rate, the Prince having given strict orders that 
Lady Craven was to travel with no delays and at no 
expense. If they met a peasant riding a good horse, he 
was ordered to dismount, and left with a tired animal, 
while his own was harnessed to the carriage. 

At Bucharest our heroine was hospitably entertained 
by the Prince and Princess of Wallachia, who serenaded 
her with strange music, gave her a beautiful Arab horse, 
and urged her to stay with them a year. But she 
pressed on over almost impassable roads, her carriage 
being again overturned, to Hermannstadt, on the Aus- 
trian frontier. Here she was received by an old major, 
who said that in the twenty-three years he had been 
stationed there she was the first lady who had passed 
that way. The Emperor Joseph, who was reviewing 
his cavalry in the neighbourhood, paid her a visit, 
and sat for two hours looking over her maps and 
presents. The traveller reached Vienna on August 30, 
1786, and from thence vi^ent to Anspach, to make 
the acquaintance of the Margravine, and arrange for 
taking up her residence at the Court the following 
winter. Meanwhile, she proposed to return to Eng- 
land for a few weeks in order to see her children 
and collect some of her belongings. The visit to 
Anspach seems to have been a success, for on October 
1, 1786, she writes to the Margrave: 'I am now 
embarking for England. I carry with me, sir, the 
proud satisfaction of having pleased the Margravine. 
Your courtiers have assured me I am the only person 

157 



LADY CRAVEN 

they ever saw her like ; that she told them the sound of 
my voice did her good. . . . My mother will think I 
am quite right to have hovered in the air so long, when 
she knows where my resting-place is to be ; and if she is 
angry with me now, will be excessively pleased. But 
my brother will say " Pourquoi " now and for ever, even 
when he knows I am your adopted sister ; but if he said 
so to me, I should reply, " Because I esteem the Mar- 
grave enough to think being his adopted sister is an 
idea that will support me through every trouble and 
comfort me for every sorrow."' 

Lady Craven's arrival in England, after an absence of 
nearly two years, appears to have fluttered the dovecotes 
of both Berkeley and Craven, as the family correspond- 
ence proves.^ Her husband wrote to Lord Berkeley to 
ask what course he intended to take, to which his lord- 
ship replied in laconic fashion : — 

' My dear Lord, — As to any part of my family, I 
cannot answer for. Sufficient for myself to say that I 
shall certainly give you every support you require in 
the business consistent with my regard for her as her 
brother — and as hitherto you have had it, not only on 
account of my near relationship to your children, but 
also your behaviour to her, no alterations will take 
place in the sentiments of your affectionate and obedient 
servant, Berkeley."' 

Mr. Joseph Hill, Cowper's friend and correspondent, 
was Lord Craven's agent, and seems to have acted 
as mediator between him and his wife. In a letter 
to Lord Craven, dated October 1786, Mr. Hill says: 

^ Here first published. 

158 



LADY CRAVEN 

' I return Lord Berkeley's letter. I hope it will turn 
out as he supposes. He cannot but wish it, and 
Lady Craven will certainly receive no countenance or 
support from any quarter of consequence in this country 
— so that for her own sake she will not stay long here. 
On every consideration I wish your lordship not to pro- 
ceed to any acts of violence or litigation in the present 
state of things, lest you give her an advantage she 
cannot obtain by any other means. You will recollect, 
by the terms of your agreement, she is not obliged to 
live abroad, and she is at liberty to see her children in 
the presence of either of her brothers. I am persuaded 
they will not encourage her in seeing the young ladies 
— and as to the two Mr. Cravens, if Mr. Forster [their 
tutor] is present, it appears to be of very little import- 
ance. I think it will be much best to wait quietly, and 
see the bent of his lordship's inclinations. Those he 
will pursue ; and if they square with yours, as I trust 
they will, he will take effectual measures to send Lady 
Craven out of the kingdom — much more so, I mean, 
than if he is urged to it strongly. Meanwhile, I wish 
your lordship and the young ladies to have as little 
alarm as possible ; and if adverse proceedings are ulti- 
mately necessary (which I am satisfied they will not be), 
let them be taken with temper, upon good grounds, 
and wait for a proper occasion — although there is none 
that you can pursue with efFect." 

In November, Mr. Hill wrote to inform Lord Craven 
that although her ladyship had desired to see her 
daughters, she had gone into Sussex, and meant to go 
from thence to France. ' I mention this for your private 
information,' he continues, ' for it will be much best for 
your lordship not to let it be understood you know it, 

159 



LADY CRAVEN 

and perhaps it might be as well to answer her letter 
offering a time and place to see the young ladies. I 
find she has been at Windsor, and attempted to see Mr. 
Craven again, which Mr. Forster resisted. Whether the 
former interview had any effect on Mr. Craven I don't 
know. Mr. Forster will inform your lordship ; but the 
account her ladyship was pleased to entertain him with 
of the reception she had met with from so many crowned 
Heads and Princes, I have no doubt had been said 
before to her son, and was well calculated to dazzle 
young minds.'' 

To this Lord Craven replied : ' I have had a letter 
from Mr. Forster, who has had a very long conversation 
with Lady Craven, and she expressed the same resolution 
of not now wishing to see her children, and has repeatedly 
said she should never see them again. . . . William [his 
eldest son] is so thoroughly sensible of the impropriety 
of her conduct, and is so warmly attached to me, that 
all her fine stories of foreign Princes, Prelates, States, and 
Potentates, will have no kind of effect upon him.'' Lady 
Craven having requested Mr. Hill to obtain for her 
some of the articles that she had left in her former 
home, he communicated her wishes to Lord Craven, who 
replied in evident exasperation ; ' I have just received 
yours ; and though I shall do everything in my power 
strictly to follow your advice, yet you must allow it 
requires no small exertion of my patience to sit down 
quietly and be plundered by a woman who has behaved 
with so much ingratitude, and I will say insolence, 
towards me. What am I to expect from her brothers ? 
One will not interfere because she has used him so ill, 
and the other seems totally devoted to her, and has folly 
enough to support her in her ill-conduct towards me. 
160 



LADY CRAVEN 

At present I cannot send the things she desires, as they 
are chiefly in London. I find she wants them to 
furnish the cottage for her mother. Surely I am not 
quietly to sit down to be plundered and abused by 
Lady Craven. She ought to be acquainted that I know 
what she has taken away, and likewise the infamous 
and clandestine manner in which she took several things 
from Combe Abbey." In a later letter to Mr. Hill, 
written in the beginning of December, Lord Craven 
says ; ' I enclose you a letter from Lord Berkeley, from 
which I think you will say that Lady Craven is mad. 
I hope and trust she is now gone for ever. Before she 
returned she wrote Mr. Colleton the most extraordinary 
letter from Constantinople I ever read, giving some 
account of her travels, which I understand she means 
to publish. . . . [Dec. 14] Lady Craven is certainly 
gone to Paris, where, by a letter I saw yesterday, the 
people think her mad, so extraordinary is her conduct." 

During her stay in London, Lady Craven had written 
to Horace Walpole offering to call on him at his house in 
Berkeley Square ; but as he was then at Strawberry Hill, 
the two did not meet. While at Constantinople she 
had sent him a drawing of the Castle of Otranto, which 
had been given her by Sir Richard Worsley, the British 
Minister. On November 27, 1786, Walpole wrote her 
the following letter of acknowledgment and thanks : — 

' To my extreme surprise, madam, when I knew not 
in what quarter of the known or unknown world you 
was resident or existent, my maid in Berkeley Square 
sent me to Strawberry Hill a note from your ladyship 
offering to call on me for a noment — for a whirlwind, 
I suppose, was waiting at your door to carry you to 
Japan ; and as balloons have not yet settled any post- 
L ' 161 



LADY CRAVEN 

offices in the air, you could not, or at least did not, give 
me any direction where to address you, though you did 
kindly reproach me with my silence. I must enter into 
a little justification before I proceed. I heard from you 
from Venice, then from Poland, and then, having whisked 
through Tartary, from Petersburgh ; but still with no 
directions. I said to myself, " I Avill write to Grand 
Cairo, which will probably be her next stage."" Nor was 
I totally in the wrong, for there came a letter from 
Constantinople, with a design mentioned of going to 
the Greek Islands, and orders to write to you at Vienna, 
but with no banker or other address specified. 

' For a great while I had even stronger reasons than 
these for silence. For several months I was disabled 
by the gout from holding a pen ; and you must know, 
madam, that one can"'t write when one cannot write. 
Then how to communicate with La Fiancee du Roi de 
Garhe ? You had been in the tent of the Cham of 
Tartary, and in the harem of the Captain Pasha, and 
during your navigation of the ^gean were possibly 
fallen into the terrible power of a Corsair. How could 
I suppose that so many despotic infidels would part 
with your charms ? I never expected you again on 
Christian ground. I did not doubt your having a 
talisman to make people love you ; but anti-talismans 
are quite a new specific. 

' Well, while I was in this quandary, I received a 
delightful drawing of the Castle of Otranto ; but still 
provokingly without any address. However, my gratitude 
for so very agreeable and obliging a present could not 
rest till I found you out. I wrote to the Duchess of 
Richmond to beg that she would ask your brother. 
Captain Berkeley, for a direction to you ; and he has 
162 



LADY CRAVEN 

this very day been so good as to send me one, and I do 
not lose a moment in making use of it. 

' I give your ladyship a million thanks for the 
drawing, which was really a very valuable gift to me. I 
did not even know that there was a Castle of Otranto. 
When the story was finished, I looked into the map of 
the kingdom of Naples for a well-sounding name, and 
that of Otranto was very sonorous. Nay, but the draw- 
ing is so satisfactory, that there are two small windows, 
one over the other, and looking into the country, that 
suit exactly to the small chambers, from one of which 
Matilda heard the young peasant singing beneath her. 
Judge how welcome this must be to the author; and 
thence judge, madam, how much you have obliged him. 

' When you take another flight towards the bounds 
of the Western Ocean, remember to leave a direction. 
One cannot always shoot flying. Lord Chesterfield 
directed a letter to the late Lord Pembroke, who was 
always swimming, " To the Earl of Pembroke in the 
Thames, over against Whitehall." That was sure of 
finding him within a certain number of fathoms ; but 
your ladyship's longitude varies so rapidly, that one 
must be a good bowler indeed to take one's ground so 
judiciously that by casting wide of the mark one may 
come in near the jack.' 

From Paris Lady Craven wrote to her husband, 
reproaching him with having broken his promise to 
allow her children to write to her once a fortnight, and 
declared her intention of breaking her own promise that 
she would give up Keppel as soon as he was eight years 
old. She further informed him that, with her mother's 
approval, she was going to pass some time at Anspach, 
where she was to be treated as the Margrave's sister. 

163 



LADY CRAVEN 

If he attempted to get possession of Keppel by force, 
she was resolved to go to Benham, and throw herself 
for protection and redress upon the laws of her country. 
About the same time she wrote the following (un- 
published) letter to the Marquis of Carnarvon, whom 
she had apparently consulted in her difficulties : — 

' I have sent your lordship a very grave letter by Mr. 
Tate, a worthy and amiable man. The contents of it I 
hope will remain eternally buried between you and me ; 
and if you can serve me in the matter, I shall never be 
thankful enough. If I am blackballed at Parnassus, I 
shall have courted the Muses on their own territory to 
little purpose indeed. I feel I am now out of favour 
with the God of Light, for I have not a ray of his 
divinity, not even a small sparkle at the end of my pen 
to make it trace a few lines to you in return for yours ; 
for which I thank you very much, and wish your in- 
disposition may be of no more serious nature than the 
new piece of scandal you threaten me with, though it 
does not surprise me. I certainly did go into the 
Temple of Jupiter and of Minerva at Athens — who 
knows but Apollo might have met me there ; if he 
did, I assure you he was accompanied by the nine Muses, 
and surely there were ladies enough to match one mortal. 
Well, if they have said anything amiss of my doings 
there, I shall summon them to the Court of Conscience, 
and they will confess (nay, mortals will soon see) what I 
did there was by their commands, aided and assisted by 
them — and lest your curiosity should lead your ideas 
astray on this subject — know, my good lord, that I did 
compose while in Greece something for M. de Choiseurs 
press at Pera. You would be very surprised now if I 
were to tell you I am like a cow, because, having a 
164 



LADY CRAVEN 

shocking cough, I mean to live upon milk chiefly — but 
I think you deserve this, for I am as like to a cow as 
you are to a calf, and depend on 't, whenever you bray 
I shall bellow. — So hoping a day may come when we 
may bray and bellow a duo together, I remain, in prose, 
your much obliged humble friend and servant, 

' Eliza. Craven.'' 

It will be noted that her ladyship, in spite of her 
boasted clearness of ideas, was decidedly hazy on the 
subject of natural history, since calves do not usually 
bray, nor do cows live on milk. 

During Lady Craven's stay in Paris on her way to 
Anspach, Horace Walpole wrote her a letter on the 
subject of her proposed publication of her Travels^ 
which contrasts amusingly with his letters to Lady 
Ossory on the same subject when the book actually 
came out. ' Your ladyship tells me,"* he writes under 
the date of January 2, 1787, 'that you have kept a 
journal of your travels ; you know not when your friends 
at Paris will give you time to put it au net ; that is, I 
conclude and hope, prepare it for the press. I do not 
wonder that those friends, whether talismanic or others, 
are so assiduous if you indulge them ; but unless they 
are of the former description, they are unpardonable, if 
they know what they interrupt. . . . How proud 
I should be to register a noble authoress of my 
own country, who has travelled over more regions 
and farther than any female in print ! Your ladyship 
has visited those islands and shore whence formerly 
issued those travelling sages and legislators who sought 
and imported wisdom, laws, and religion into Greece ; 
and though we are so perfect as to want none of these 
commodities, the fame of those philosophers is certainly 

165 



LADY CRAVEN 

diminished when a fair lady has gone as far in quest of 
knowledge. You have gone in an age when travels are 
brought to a juster standard, by narrations being limited 
to truth. 

* Formerly the performers of the longest voyages 
destroyed half the merit of their expeditions by relat- 
ing, not what they had, but had not seen ; a sort of 
communication that they might have imparted with- 
out stirring a foot from home. Such exaggerations 
drew discredit on travels, till people would not believe 
that there existed, in other countries, anything very 
different from what they saw in their own ; and because 
no Patagonians, or gentry seven or eight feet high, were 
really discovered, they would not believe that there were 
Laplanders or pigmies of three or four. Incredulity 
went so far that at last it was doubted whether China 
so much as existed ; and our countryman. Sir John 
Mandeville, got an ill name because, though he gave 
an account of it, he had not brought back its right 
name. . . . 

' I am sorry to hear, madam, that by your account 
Lady Mary Wortley was not so accurate and faithful as 
modern travellers. The invaluable art of inoculation, 
which she brought from Constantinople, so dear to all 
admirers of beauty, and to which we owe, perhaps, the 
preservation of yours, stamps her an universal bene- 
factress ; and as you rival her in poetic talents, I had 
rather you would employ them to celebrate her for her 
nostrum than detect her for romancing. However, 
genuine accounts of the interior of seraglios would be 
precious ; and I was in hope would become the greater 
rarities, as I flattered myself that your friends, the 
Empress of Russia and the Emperor [of Germany], were 
166 



LADY CRAVEN 

determined to level Ottoman tyranny. His Imperial 
Majesty, who has demolished the prison bars of so many 
nunneries, would perform a still more Christian act in 
setting free so many useless sultanas. . . . Your 
ladyship's indefatigable peregrinations should have such 
objects in view, when you have the ear of sovereigns. 
Peter the Hermit conjured up the first crusades against 
the infidels by running from monarch to monarch. 
Lady Craven should be as zealous and renowned ; and 
every fair Circassian would acknowledge that one Eng- 
lish lady had repaid their country for the secret which 
another had given to Europe from their practice." 



PART III 

Christian Frederick, Margrave of Anspach, Branden- 
burgh, and Bareith, Duke of Prussia, and Count of 
Sayn, who henceforward played so important a part 
in Lady Craven's life, was born in 1736. His mother 
was an elder sister of Frederick the Great, under whom 
the Margrave studied war tactics and strategy in his 
youth. Caroline, Queen of George ii., was an elder 
sister of the Margrave's father, and helped to superintend 
his education. When only fifteen, Christian Frederick 
was informed by his father that he was expected to 
marry his cousin, a Princess of Saxe-Coburg. On seeing 
his proposed bride, he refused the match, but was told 
that he would be kept in a State prison until he con- 
sented. The boy, who loved field sports and out-of- 
door life, could not long hold out against such a threat, 
and when he was eighteen the marriage took place. 
The Margravine was sickly in body, and dull and 

167 



LADY CRAVEN 

indifferent in disposition ; while, worst offence of all, she 
bore her husband no heir. When he succeeded to the 
Margraviate three years after his marriage, the ministers 
suggested that the Prince should divorce his wife and 
seek a younger bride ; but he replied, ' I am her husband, 
and as long as she lives I am bound to protect her/ 
He allowed himself, however, considerable latitude in 
the direction of left-handed alliances, though he prided 
himself upon never having formed a liaison with a 
woman of his own nation. He early earned the reputa- 
tion of an unusually eccentric sovereign, for his extrava- 
gances and caprices knew no bounds, and for some years 
Europe is said to have rung with his follies. 

Lady Craven declares that the joy of the Margravine 
at seeing her was very great, though she was naturally 
cold and indifferent to those around her, more especially 
to her husband. Life at the little German Court was 
formal, monotonous, and deadly dull, but the Margrave's 
adopted sister claims to have cheered and brightened 
the hours of her ' kind and princely brother.' She 
persuaded him to turn an old manege into a theatre ; 
and with the Court orchestra to play, and the young 
nobility to sing and dance, she managed to arrange re- 
presentations that were not only lively, but magnificent. 
She was manager-in-chief, wrote most of the pieces for 
her company, and usually appropriated the leading roles. 
Another of her innovations was the establishment of a 
society for the encouragement of science and art, the 
members of which met once a week, read papers, and 
discussed various learned subjects. 

The Margrave proposed that Lady Craven should 
found a charitable school for girls, and gave a fine 
house and garden for the purpose, observing that females 
168 



LADY CRAVEN 

of every class to whom she should prescribe the mode 
of education were certain to prove good wives and 
mothers. The Margravine threw cold water upon the 
plan, and in the result not a single person recommended 
a child to this miniature St. Cyr, the inhabitants of 
Anspach apparently not sharing their sovereign's faith 
in Lady Craven's ability to train good wives and 
mothers. The Englishwoman explains that there was 
much jealousy against her on the part of the entourage, 
who thought that she intended to fill the Court with 
her English friends. The Germans, she says, always 
imagine that you have a scheme if you reside among 
them ; and she complains that she could never satisfy 
the suspicions of the people, who invariably opposed 
her plans. 

Lady Craven's chief rival at Anspach was the once 
famous actress. Mademoiselle Clairon. In 1755, when 
she was only forty-two, Clairon had left the stage ; and 
eight years later the Margrave, over whom she had 
obtained a strong influence, invited her to come and 
reside at Anspach. She was in the habit of asserting 
that she had come to Anspach at the request of the 
Margravine, and that her coming had prevented a divorce 
between the royal pair. She kept up an extravagant 
establishment at the expense of the Margrave, who 
called her sa maman, and treated her as a councillor 
and confidante. The elderly mavian naturally became 
furiously jealous of the fascinating adopted sister. An 
amusing account of the relations between the rivals is 
given in the Memoirs of the Alsatian Baroness D'Ober- 
kirk, nee de Freundstein, who lived in the family of 
the Duke of Wlirtemberg at Montbeliard, near Strasburg. 
During her stay at Anspach, Lady Craven paid a visit 

169 



LADY CRAVEN 

to Strasburg, bringing a letter of introduction from the 
Margrave to the family of Wlirtemberg. 

' There are some persons,"* writes the Baroness 
D'Oberkirk, a propos of this visitor, ' whom Providence 
allows to pass a great part of their lives without 
experiencing any obstacle to their bizarre and extra- 
ordinary conduct ; and then, when perhaps it is least 
expected, they fall into irremediable misfortune. . . . 
Lady Craven only kept her place in the world by force 
of her boldness, spirit, and aplomb. Without being 
exactly pretty, she was piquant and agreeable, with fine 
eyes and superb chestnut hair. She was a charming 
companion, sweet, gay, insoitciante, without the least 
pedantry ; her timidity was delicious. Her dominant 
passion was for comedy, which she acted admirably, 
and she communicated this passion to the Margrave. 
Her conversation was very amusing — elle racontait comme 
M. de Voltaire.'' The eccentricities of Lord Craven 
furnished many droll chapters ; but what she related 
most successfully was her arrival at Anspach, her rela- 
tions with Mademoiselle Clairon, and the jealousy and 
extravagance of the actress. At first she was cordially 
received by the ruling goddess, who made her the con- 
fidante of all her complaints against the Margrave. Lady 
Craven listened with a sympathetic ear, and lectured 
the Prince, who apologised and promised amendment. 
But Clairon was full of capricious humours, and went 
through life with a tragedy air, ' her very night-cap,' 
according to Lady Craven, ' having all the dignity of 
a gilt-paper crown."* After a time the Englishwoman 
began to laugh at the heroics of her friend, and made 
the Margrave laugh too, who was never able to treat 
his ' maman ' seriously again. Lady Craven continued 
170 



LADY CRAVEN 

to laugh and to amuse the Margrave ; she played comedy 
in the theatre and in the salon, while her pink cheeks, 
smiles, and good humour made the pretensions of 
Cleopatra insupportable. Clairon became jealous, and 
threatened to stab herself. The Margrave was alarmed, 
but Lady Craven asked scornfully, ' Do you forget that 
actresses' poignards only run into their sleeves ? ' Open 
war was now declared between the two rivals ; but after 
three years' struggle Clairon fled, uttering imprecations 
against her supplanter. Lady Craven told the story 
in inimitable fashion. ' It was easy for me,' she said, 
' to enter into the lists against an actress, for I know 
all Voltaire, Corneille, and Racine by heart. She could 
never find me at a loss ; I always had a weapon 
ready.' 

Writing in later years to her friend, Charles Kirk- 
patrick Sharpe, Lady Craven observes of her old rival : 
' Mademoiselle Clairon was the greatest liar that ever 
existed. There is a printed book called Memoires dc 
Mile. Clairon., in which there is scarcely anything but 
lies. Among them is the conversation she pretends to 
have had with the Margrave's first wife — a tete-a-tete. 
Now I was given an account by all the courtiers at 
Anspach de ses J'aits et gestes while she was there. She 
never was alone with the Margravine. Never saw her 
but before all the people invited to hear her declama- 
tion. She never did anything but act. Her brain 
was so completely turned by her favour with the 
Margrave that at one of the two audiences (she was 
with the Margravine only twice), when somebody said, 
" Est-ce que Mademoiselle parle I'Allemand ? " she 
replied, " Comment peut-on parler une langue non 
articulee ? " This before a German Princess as proud 

171 



LADY CRAVEN 

of the German tongue as of her pedigree. Another 
time, one of the chamberlains told her she spoke to 
the Margrave with too much hauteur. " Que voulez- 
vous, mon cher Baron ?"" she returned. " J'ai joue tant 
d'imperatrices sur le theatre que je me crois imperatrice 
meme sur ma chaise."" If she had had any virtues, she 
would have been a very dangerous person, for she 
always studied words and actions to produce some 
effect."* 

Lady Craven seems to have kept up an intermittent 
correspondence with Strawberry Hill ; for on December 1 1 , 
1788, we find Walpole writing to her : ' It is agreeable 
to your ladyship"'s usual goodness to honour me with 
another letter ; and I may say to your equity too, 
after I had proved to M. Mercier, by the list of dates 
of my letters, that it was not mine, but the posfs 
fault, that you did not receive one that I had the 
honour of writing to you above a year ago. Not, 
madam, that I could wonder if you had the prudence 
to drop a correspondence with an old superannuated 
man ; who, conscious of his decay [he was then seventy- 
one], has had the decency of not troubling with his 
dotages persons of not near your ladyship"'s youth and 
vivacity. I have long been of opinion that few persons 
know wheti to die ; I am not so English as to mean 
when to despatch themselves — no, but when to go out 
of the world. I have usually applied this opinion to 
those who have made a considerable figure ; and con- 
sequently it was not adapted to myself. Yet even we 
cyphers ought not to fatigue the public scene when 
we become lumber. Thus, being quite out of the 
question, I will explain my maxim, which is the more 
wholesome the higher it is addressed. My opinion 
172 



LADY CRAVEN 

then is, that when any person has shone as much as 
is possible in his or her best walk, he should take up 
his Strulbrugism, and be heard of no more. Instances 
will be still more explanatory. Voltaire ought to have 
pretended to die after Alzire, Mahomet, and Semiramis, 
and not have produced his wretched last pieces ; Lord 
Chatham should have closed his political career with 
his immortal war ; and how weak was Garrick, when 
he had quitted the stage, to limp after the tatters of 
fame by writing and reading pitiful poems ; and even 
by sitting- to read plays which he had acted with such 
fire and energy ! . . . 

* We have just received the works of an author 
[Frederick the Great], from whom I find I am to receive 
much less entertainment than I expected, because I 
shall have much less to read than I intended. His 
Memoirs^ I am told, are almost wholly military ; which, 
therefore, I shall not read ; and his poetry I am sure 
I shall not look at, because I should not understand 
it. What I saw of it formerly convinced me that he 
would not have been a poet, even if he had written in 
his own language ; and though I do not understand 
German, I am told it is a fine language; and I can 
easily believe that any tongue (not excepting our old 
barbarous Saxon, which, a bit of an antiquary as I 
am, I abhor) is more harmonious than French. It 
was curious absurdity, therefore, to pitch on the most 
unpoetic language in Europe, the most barren, and the 
most clogged with difficulties. I have heard Russian 
and Polish sung, and both sounded musical ; but to 
abandon one's own tongue, and not adopt Italian, that 
is even sweeter, softer, and more copious than the Latin, 
was a want of taste that I should think could not be 

173 



LADY CRAVEN 

applauded even by a Frenchman born in Provence. 
But what a language is the French, which measures 
verses by feet that never are to be pronounced ; which 
is the case wherever the mute e is found ! What 
poverty of various sounds for rhyme, when, lest similar 
cadences should too often occur, their mechanic bards 
are obliged to marry masculine and feminine termina- 
tions as alternately as the black-and-white squares of 
a chess-board ? Nay, will you believe me, madam — 
yes, you will, for you may convince your own eyes — 
that a scene of Zaire begins with three of the most 
nasal adverbs that ever snorted together in a breath ? 
Eiifin^ done, desormais, are the culprits in question. 
Enjin done, need I tell your ladyship that the author 
I alluded to at the beginning of this long tirade is 
the late King of Prussia ? 

' I am conscious that I have taken a little liberty when 
I excommunicate a language in which your ladyship has 
condescended to write, but I only condemn it for verse 
and pieces of eloquence, of which I thought it alike 
incapable until I read Rousseau of Geneva. It is a 
most sociable language, and charming for narrative and 
epistles. Yet, write as well as you Avill in it, you must 
be liable to express yourself better in the speech that is 
natural to you ; and your own country has a right to 
understand all your works, and is jealous of their not 
being as perfect as you could make them. Is it not 
more creditable to be translated into a foreign tongue 
than into your own ? And will it not vex you to hear 
the translation taken for the original, and to find 
vulgarisms that you could not have committed yourself? 
But I have done, and will release you, madam, only 
observing that you flatter me with a vain hope when 
174 



LADY CRAVEN 

you tell me that you shall return to England some time 
or other, AVhere will that time be for me ? And 
when it arrives, shall I not be somewhere else ?""... 

Lady Craven''s Journey tlirougli the Crimea to Con- 
stantinople does not appear to have reached England 
till 1789. In February of that year Walpole writes to 
Lady Ossory : ' Lady Craven's Travels I received from 
Robson two hours ago. Dodsley brought the manu- 
script to me before I came to town, but I positively 
refused to open it, though he told me my name was 
mentioned several times ; but I was conscious how 
grievous it would be to her family and poor daughters, 
and therefore persisted in having nothing to do with it, 
I own I have now impatiently cut the leaves in search 
of my own name, and am delighted at finding it there 
but thrice, and only by the initial letter. When I have 
the honour of seeing your ladyship I can tell you many 
collateral circumstances, but I will not put them on 
paper, I fear she may come to wish, or should, that 
she had not been born with a propensity for writing.'' 
In another letter to the same lady he observes : ' I am 
sorry my noble authoress's Travels do not please 
you, madam ; in truth, I fear they will add more to 
her present celebrity than to her future renown, I 
even doubt whether she would have been turned into a 
laurel as soon by running away from Apollo (which was 
not her turn) as by running to him,' 

Lady Craven made Anspach her headquarters for 
nearly five years. The winters were usually passed at 
Triesdorf, the royal hunting-lodge, about three leagues 
from the capital. Here she followed the staghounds 
with the Margrave in the morning, played cribbage 
with the Margravine in the evening, made an English 

175 



LADY CRAVEN 

garden, ami introiluced the nianufjuture of Stilton 
cheese. ' The winter followin«i; my arrival,"' says her 
ladyshii), ' the ]Mar«];rave wished me to «;o to Naples with 
him for a few months. I of course acceded to his pro- 
position, and wo set ott' with my son Keppel.'' The 
party wei*e warmly welcomed at Naples, where the Mar- 
grave was a favourite with the royal family. 'The 
Queen,"* writes lAxdy Craven, 'took such a fancy to me, 
that she made me s[)end most of my evenings with her, 
while in the mornings I often accom})anied the King 
(Ferdinand the l"\)urth| on his hunting or shooting 
parties. My adroitness in killing game, my skill in 
riding on horseback, and the indiflerence I showed about 
my person in rain or wind, endeareil me nuich to the 
King. Sir William Hamilton, who early in life had 
experienced the kindness of my relations, returned that 
kindness in my pei'son by saying such handsome things 
about me at Court thnt I soon became a general 
favourite. The Margrave was never so haj)j)y as 
during our stay at Naples. As he excelled in all 
manly exercises, he was not a little gratified to disjilay 
me as one accustonied to these sports."' 

Lady Craven speaks in high terms of the under- 
standing, the versatility, and the youthful ardour of 
Sir AVilliam, who had then reached the age of three- 
score years and ten ; but on the subject of iMuma 
Harte she preserves a discreet silence. The reason for 
this reticence may be found in a letter of AVal pole's to 
the Miss Berrys. ' What,"" he asks, ' will the great 
Duke think of our Amazons if he has letters opened, as 
the I'^mperor was wont ? One of our Canullas, but in a 
freer stvle, 1 hear ho saw (I fancy just before your 
arrival); ami he must have wouiUmviI at the familiarity 
17(i 



I.ADY CRAVEN 

of the (lanie uiul the iiinconi|)0()j)h()()(l of her Prince. 

Sir William is arrived , his Nymph of the Attitudes 

[Lady Ilainiltori] was too prudish to visit the rambliiifr 
{)eercss,'' ' 

The ramhliii<r peeress enjoyed herself mightily at 
Naples, wliere there were magnificent operas, continual 
nias(juerades, and every kind of pleasure and luxuiy. 
She and her Prince intended to stay in Italy until April 
or May, but one morning during ('arnival time I,ady 
Craven received a message that the Margrave desired to 
speak to her at once. She went to his room, and found 
him in great agitation. Sending away the servants, 
^d kissing her hand, he said, ' You have conducted 
yourself like a sister indeed ; but I have one request to 
make to you ' (he held a letter in his hand, which 
shook with anger). ' I must go to ]Jerlin incognito. 
Will you go with me ? It is the only sacrifice of your 
time I shall evei- re(juire of you.' He exj)lained that an 
infamous plot had been formed at Ans{)ach to create 
discontent. The affair demanded his inunediate j)re- 
sence at IJerlin, but he wished to go without the 
knowledge of his ministers. Lady (!raven, who guessed 
that the letter was about herself, as the Margrave never 
told her its contents, begged him to be calm, and pro- 
mised to do all that he wished. The suite was sent 
home, and she and the Margrave paid a tlying visit 
incognito to Berlin. On their return to Ansj)ach, the 
Secretary of State was dismissed after his papers had 
been seized, and the other ministers took an early opj:)or- 
tunity of assuring Lady Craven of their profound respect 
and esteem. ' The wretches ! ' exclaimed the Margrave, 

' This refers to Lady Craven's second visit to Naples in 1791. 

M 177 



LADY CRAVEN 

when he told her about the confiscated correspondence, 
in which she figured as ' the Ultramontane/ ' You, 
whose conduct proves that as a mother or a sister your 
whole time is occupied in creating delight here, where 
dulness and monotony have taken up their abode ! '' 
The unjust suspicions of his people against her deter- 
mined the Margrave, says Lady Craven, to cede his 
dominions to Prussia, a resolution which she declares 
that she did her best to combat. 

In an unpublished letter dated Triesdorf, September 
12, 1789, and addressed to an English duke — pos- 
sibly Portland — Lady Craven says : ' I have received 
your Grace's letter, which bespeaks the goodness and 
amiability of your heart, which I have long known ; 
and I answer it, not to settle myself upon you as a cor- 
respondent, but to ease your shoulders of any burden 
whatever upon the subject I wrote to you upon. I 
have this very day received some intelligence from Berlin 
which makes me believe, by a channel quite different 
from yours and mine, that I shall have the satisfaction 
of seeing my worthy friend the Margrave decored when 
an opportunity offers. You are very civil about my 
talents, and I wish I had lived in England with people 
whose tempers had been as much pleased with them as 
the Margrave seems thankful to me for diffusing a little 
elegant gaiety in his Court. He is an honest, sensible 
man, and deserves the love and esteem of everybody who 
approaches him. And if, like his uncle, he does not 
incessantly court the Muses, he knows the value of those 
who have some intercourse with them. I wish your 
Grace may long be prevented from renewing your con- 
nection on Mount Parnassus by more solid and heartfelt 
employments, and be assured no laurels bestowed by 
178 



LADY CRAVEN 

Apollo can give half the pleasure as wreaths of myrtle 
given from the fair hand of your Duchess/ 

In 1790 the Margrave informed Lady Craven that 
he had been invited to go to Berlin for the Carnival, 
and that she was desired to accompany him as his 
adopted sister. As usual, the Margravine stayed at 
home, but she took an affectionate farewell of her 
pseudo sister-in-law, and exhorted her to dance a minuet 
at Berlin and show the Prussian royalties what dancing 
really was. Lady Craven found the Princess Amelia's 
palace prepared for her at Berlin ; and the King of 
Prussia, calling on her the day after her arrival, said, 
' This is yours. You are my adopted sister as well as 
the Margrave's.'' His Majesty no doubt thought that 
the Englishwoman was worth conciliating, for the real 
object of the Margrave's visit to Berlin was to arrange 
for the sale of his principalities to Prussia ; and to 
avoid arousing suspicion, the conferences were held in 
Lady Craven's apartment. During the three months 
she spent in Berlin she lived entirely with the royal 
family, the Duke of Brunswick-Oels being told off as 
her special cavalier. The Minister of Finance, Bern- 
sprunger, was charged by the King to offer her lands 
and titles for herself and her boy ; but she replied that 
she could not accept anything, because she was not 
legally parted from her husband. 

Before leaving Berlin Lady Craven heard that her 
husband had been seized with a fit at Bath, and was in 
a critical condition ; while on the journey home the 
Margrave was met at Bareith with the news of the 
Margravine's death. After three months' mourning the 
Margrave decided to go to England, whence he intended 
to announce his resignation of the Margraviate to his 

179 



LADY CRAVEN 

subjects. It was supposed that he had some thoughts 
of marrying an EngHsh princess ; but his minister, 
Seckendorf, wrote to Madame Schwellenberg, Miss 
Burney's old enemy, to say that a pair of fine eyes at 
the Court of Anspach would prevent the Margrave from 
marrying as long as their influence continued. The 
Prince was furious at reports being spread abroad of 
his re-marriage, and intercepted the correspondence 
between Seckendorf and Madame Schwellenberg, in 
which the minister represented Lady Craven in an 
odious light. As the letters were intended for the eye 
of the Queen, Lady Craven professes to attribute to their 
influence her Majesty's subsequent conduct towards her. 

On arriving in London in the summer of 1791, her 
ladyship does not appear to have met with a very 
cordial reception from the members of her own family. 
In a letter to the Miss Berrys, dated August 23, 
1791, Walpole says : 'You, who have had a fever with 
fetes, had rather hear the history of the soi-disant 
Margravine. She has been in England with her foolish 
Prince, and not only notified their marriage to the Earl 
[of Berkeley], her brother, who did not receive it pro- 
pitiously, but his Highness informed his lordship by a 
letter that they have a usage in his country of taking 
a wife with the left hand ; that he had espoused his 
lordship's sister in that manner, and intends, as soon as 
she shall be a widow, to marry her with his right 
hand also. The Earl replied that he knew she was 
married to an English peer, a most respectable man, 
and can know nothing of her marrying any other man, 
and so they are gone to Lisbon."" 

Lady Craven's account of the matter is that Lord 
Berkeley was so enraged with her for not wishing to live 
180 



LADY CRAVEN 

with her husband again, that he vowed he would never 
forgive her. He had also advised Lord Craven when 
the time came for Keppel to be given up by his mother 
to stop the payment of her jointure ; but Lord Craven 
had replied, ' God forbid I should ever do that ! Whose 
fortune might she not have where she bestowed her 
society ? ' Fearing persecution, Lady Craven placed 
Keppel at Harrow under a feigned name, and then 
departed with the Margrave for Lisbon. They were 
detained at Calais for three days because (the reason is 
not obvious) Louis xvi. had fled from Paris, and it was 
not until he had been brought back from Varennes that 
they were allowed to hire a packet and proceed on their 
voyage. At Lisbon all the foreign ministers visited Lady 
Craven except the representative of England, Mr. Edward 
Walpole. The Queen of Portugal was kind to the 'rambling 
peeress,' declaring, ' I will protect her, and the Queen of 
England as a mother should protect and not persecute 
her.' Lady Craven observes, ' There were two distinct 
parties at Lisbon. All the good and spiritual people, 
with the party attached to the Queen, were for me ; 
while the base and corrupted levelled the shafts of their 
malice against me.' 

On September 26, 1791, Lord Craven died at 
Lausanne, and on October 30 Lady Craven was married 
to the Margrave. ' I felt myself at liberty,' she writes, 
' to act as I thought proper, and accepted the hand of the 
Margrave without fear or remorse. We were married 
in the presence of a hundred persons, and attended by 
all the naval officers, who were quite delighted to assist 
as witnesses.' Walpole announces the news to Lady 
Ossory in a letter dated November 23. ' Oh, I this 
moment recollect to tell your ladyship,' he writes, ' that 

181 



LADY CRAVEN 

Lady Craven received the news of her husband's death 
on a Friday, went into weeds on Saturday, and into 
white satin and many diamonds on Sunday, and in that 
vestal trim was married to the Margrave of Anspach by 
my cousin's chaplain, though he and Mrs. Walpole 
excused themselves from being present. The bride 
excused herself for having so Jew diamonds ; they had 
been the late Margravine's, but she is to have many 
more, and will soon set out for England, where they 
shall astonish the public by living in a style of magnifi- 
cence unusual, as they are richer than anybody in this 
country. The Dukes of Bedford, Marlborough, and 
Northumberland may hide their diminished rays.' 

The newly married couple, after a short visit to 
Madrid, travelled to England, passing as quickly as 
possible through France, where the Revolution was then 
raging, many of Lady Craven's old friends being in a 
piteous case. On her arrival in London the new Mar- 
gravine received a letter from her daughters to the 
effect that, ' With due deference to the Margravine of 
Anspach, the Miss Cravens inform her that out of respect 
to their father they cannot wait upon her.' Her eldest 
son neglected her, and Lord Berkeley wrote her ' an 
absurd letter,' full of reproaches on account of her 
marrying the Margrave so soon after the death of her 
husband. Worst of all. Queen Charlotte refused to 
receive her at Court as Margravine of Anspach. The 
Margrave was much hurt at this decision, and asked his 
wife what possible reason there could be for such an 
affront, but she confessed herself wholly unable to 
account for it. She had intended to be presented at 
Court as a Princess of the German Empire, having been 
created Princess Berkeley by the Emperor Joseph, and 
182 



LADY CRAVEN 

went so far as to draw up an address to the House of 
Lords, setting forth her rights and dignities, but was 
persuaded to abandon her intention of sending it in. 

The Margrave bought the large villa on the Thames 
at Hammersmith, which was formerly the property of 
Bubb Dodington, and was called by him La Trappe. 
It was now renamed Brandenburgh House, and a theatre 
was added to it. The Margrave also bought Benham 
from his stepson, which had been in the property of the 
Craven family since the time of the first Earl, and gave 
it to his wife. The Hon. Grantley Berkeley, Lady 
Craven's nephew, describes in his Recollections the 
magnificent masquerade which was given as a house- 
warming at Brandenburgh House. To this the most 
distinguished of the English and foreign nobility were 
invited ; but, sad to say, the guests behaved very badly, 
breaking plate-glass mirrors, and stealing or damaging 
portions of the costly hangings and chair-covers. Mr. 
Berkeley tells us that his aunt still wrote plays of a 
tenderly sentimental kind, and never failed, though past 
her first youth, to play the young and interesting 
heroines, keeping her assistants as much as possible in 
the background.^ 

Her most intimate friends, according to her nephew, 
were those eccentric people whose peculiarities of manner 
and dress were caricatured by Gillray and Rowland- 
son. Her corps dramatique consisted, besides her son 
Keppel, of Lords Barrymore, Blessington, and Chol- 
mondeley, of Lady Albinia Cholmondeley and Lady 
Buckinghamshire, but professional aid was sometimes 
called in in the persons of Mrs. Abington and M. 

1 A curious account of the theatricals at Brandenburgh House is given 
in the Reminiscences of Henry Angelo. 

183 



LADY CRAVEN 

Le Tescier. On one occasion Mrs. Abington played with 
Lady Craven in The Provoked Wife, when the actress's 
speeches were ' cut ' in order to give more prominence to 
the role of the heroine, taken of course by the hostess. 
As might be expected, there was a row royal, and Mrs. 
Abington's lines were restored to her. In the Lady's 
Monthly Museum for June 1798 there is a paragraph 
to the effect that ' the celebrated tragedy of The 
Robbers, translated from the German, with considerable 
emendations by the Hon. Keppel Craven, was performed 
at this theatre (Brandenburgh House). A most brilliant 
and crowded audience attended, and expressed the 
greatest satisfaction at the merit of the piece and the 
performers. Amelia was performed with all that taste, 
pathos, and classical propriety which so eminently dis- 
tinguishes the sensibility and accomplished mind of the 
Margravine. . . . The Margravine spoke a most pointed 
and brilliant epilogue with a charming excellence that 
was irresistibly impressive on the feelings of the 
audience."* 

In 1806 the Margrave died of a pulmonary com- 
plaint, being then seventy years of age. His wife, who 
was the only person mentioned in his will, says of him : 
' A better man never existed. Nothing could divert 
him from what was right, none could more easily for- 
give. . . . He was so perfectly genteel and princely in 
his air, that even with his great-coat and round hat the 
sovereign was perceived.' In Lady Cvaxen's Autobiography 
there is an engraving of a profile of the Margrave in bas- 
relief, modelled by herself when at Naples, which represents 
a grotesquely ugly man, with a nose of immense length, 
and a foolish expression. This, which certainly cannot 
have been an idealised portrait, is described by the artist 
184 



LADY CRAVEN 

as an excellent likeness. The Margrave's chief passion 
throughout his life was for horses. He kept a magni- 
ficent stud at Brandenburgh House, and his last request to 
his wife on his deathbed was that a favourite grey horse 
which was in training for the Derby might run whether 
its master were alive or dead. Christian Frederick was 
buried at Benham in a splendid mausoleum, the marble 
for which was brought from Italy, and cost five thousand 
pounds. 

Unlike most ladies of her type, the Margravine did 
not turn devote in her declining years, nor occupy her 
time in good works. She was fortunate enough to 
possess several hobbies, which her great wealth and 
unshakable self-complacency enabled her to ride with 
triumphant ease and enjoyment. The best methods 
of fruit-cultivation and the desirability of filling up 
canals were her chief fads, but she felt herself perfectly 
competent to regulate any other matters that came 
under her notice, from the assessment of the poor-rates 
to the paving of the streets. From her published corre- 
spondence with Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe, and some 
unpublished letters to Dr. Taylor, secretary of the 
Society of Arts and Sciences, we are enabled to gain 
occasional glimpses into the latter portion of her life. 

Of her children, with the exception of Keppel,who seems 
to have been an affectionate and dutiful son, she saw little 
or nothing. Her eldest son William, created Viscount 
Uffington and Earl of Craven in 1801, offended the 
Margravine deeply (in spite of her dramatic tastes) by 
marrying Miss Louisa Brunton, the popular actress. 
The eldest daughter, Elizabeth, who was reconciled to 
her mother soon after the return of the latter to 
England, married a Mr. Maddocks, and died in 1799. 

185 



LADY CRAVEN 

Maria, the second daughter, married the Earl of Sefton, 
and died in 1851 ; while the youngest, Arabella, 
married General the Hon. Frederick St, John, and died 
in 1819. 

The Margravine seems to have divided her time 
between Benham and Brandenburgh House, with occa- 
sional flights to the Continent. She had various 
grievances on the subject of her fortune, the income 
which, she asserted, was due to her from the King 
of Prussia, not being forthcoming. In an unpublished 
letter, dated August 11, 1806, and addressed to Mr. 
Jackson, then English Minister at the Court of Berlin, 
she writes : ' I did not expect or care about the Palace 
at Berlin, but there were things of much more con- 
sequence to me which the King of Prussia ought to 
do ; though positively the late King gave the Palace to 
me for my life, as well as to the Margrave. I have at 
last been very ill these two days, which I have expected 
this great while, as I have never had a moment's rest 
since the Margrave's death — everybody around me, instead 
of considering my situation, have not given me time to 
breathe — demands of every sort, fancies of all kinds. If 
you can give me any hopes of a Peace, you will do me 
good. I hear Prussia has or will make a separate Peace 
with France, of which I never doubted whenever it suited 
her. I confess I am astonished that any man could take 
Pitt's place on his shoulders without first pointing out 
the absolute ignorance he was master of as to foreign 
affairs — deprecating the system — and then boldly pro- 
ceeding on quite a new plan. For me, who am not a 
man, but wish my country not to be totally ruined, I 
shall keep my eyes off all it does, that I may not lament 
more than I have for years the best of Princes' partiality 
186 



LADY CRAVEN 

for it. ... I don't know at all in the general confu- 
sion who your ministerial friends are, but this I can tell 
you that the ministry is all divided, and will not hold 
together long.' 

In this year 1806 the Margravine appears to have 
made the acquaintance of Dr. Taylor, secretary to the 
Society of Arts and Sciences, for which body she wrote 
a treatise on the art of pruning fruit-trees. In November 
1806 she writes to the secretary from Benham :^ 'I hope 
you do not forget my patriotic scheme of introducing, 
or rather reviving, the art of pruning trees. The season 
is now come for peach and pear trees, and I am very busy 
here. I have a young tleve whom I wish you to provide 
for, as making an Ambulating Pruner such as they have 
in France. Pray let me know if you have done anything 
towards this — a thing I think of the greatest consequence 
to the comforts as well as pockets of all people who have 
fruit-trees.' Apparently the idea did not ' catch on,' for 
in a later letter the Margravine complains : ' I despair of 
ever seeing anybody think oij'ruit. There seems to be a 
sort of apathy about people that precludes any hope of 
preventing the English from gradually sinking into pro- 
found ignorance about many useful things. ... I have 
spoken to many, who seem to think that a man, because 
he is called a gardener, is not to be affronted or put out 
of humour by having his trees pruned.' 

The Margravine could certainly not be accused of 
apathy in the propagation of her pet theories. Having 
made up her mind that Burgundy could be manufac- 
tured from English-grown grapes, she planted vines at 
Hammersmith, and in May 1808 writes to Dr. Taylor : 
' Would it be satisfactory to you and the other members 
^ This and the following letters to Dr. Taylor are now first published. 

187 



LADY CRAVEN 

of the Society that I should bring a sample of the 
Burgundy I made last autumn, for though it is not yet 
fit to drink, the colour and flavour might be seen ; and 
if you had any French person from Burgundy present, he 
might give his opinion.' In an undated letter, pro- 
bably written a few weeks later, she says : ' I have the 
greatest satisfaction in assuring you that the Burgundy 
I made here from my own grapes has succeeded per- 
fectly. I have just drawn it out of the cask, and I beg 
you will make this fact be known to the Society, and if 
you choose it I will write down an account of the time 
and manner it was made in (last autumn) and every 
circumstance relative to it. I made two sorts — one of 
the most indifferent grapes, and one of those good 
branches I could save from the all-devouring sparrows. 
... I claim some token of reward from the Society for 
having persevered in planting the Burgundy grape, 
having it pruned, and making two sorts of Burgundy 
wine, which I have bottled off. By two sorts I mean 
that the indifferent grapes have made an inferior sort, 
which I confess I imagined I should have found vinegar, 
but which is a very palatable Burgundy of a lighter 
colour than the other, which is of as bright a colour 
and good a flavour as French Burgundy. ... I shall 
thank you to have it inserted in all the newspapers that 
good Burgundy has been made here. The ignorance 
and obstinacy I have had to overcome from the moment 
I planted vines have given me so much trouble that I 
deserve to reap the only reward I wish — that my country 
should know it.** 

Dr. Taylor apparently thought that the Margravine's 
treatise on the Art of Pruning deserved a medal, for in 
May 1809 she writes to him : 'I am much obliged to 
188 



LADY CRAVEN 

you for your politeness in having thought my observa- 
tions worthy of a medal, but I take the part of those 
who have thwarted your gallantry. I have iiiventcd 
nothing. I have humbly reverted back to that method 
of managing fruit-trees which much study and experience 
have proved to be the best in France, where such study 
and such experience could only be acquired by experi- 
ments which could only be made in the Jardin du Roi 
and the rich abbeys. If Providence had made me a 
man instead of a woman, I believe I should have pruned 
many ghitton branches {branches gourmandes), which end 
in the ruin or premature decay of things of more conse- 
quence than a fruit-tree. However, as I am destined 
by nature to submit to the Law of Moses and the 
manners of Englishmen, which makes me an ox or an 
ass or any other thing subject to the dangers of being 
coveted or persecuted, I shall with all the constancy and 
gaiety of mind Heaven has blessed me with,^o on in com- 
municating through your hands my observations on fruit. 
' I must beg of you to assemble a Committee of your 
best chemists and profound scholars in the effects of 
evaporation, stagnation, and putrefaction, to resolve 
this question : I much suspect the multiplied navigable 
cuts so wantonly encouraged for many years in this 
country, which, being an island, had already incon- 
veniences from damp and cold atmosphere, have caused 
the very dismal change I have gradually perceived in the 
climate within these few years. One material reason I 
have for so thinking is the observation I have made that 
near a river that ebbs and flows as my beloved Thames 
does, the air is dry and wholesome ; and the nearer 
everything is placed to such a river, the less it is affected 
by damp. I have other reasons for supposing that our 

189 



LADY CRAVEN 

ugly ditches called navigations have injured that which, 
unless it is as good as we can have it, my pruning will be 
of little service — I mean the air. I would wish much 
reflection and calculation should precede any answer 
I may get on this subject — a very serious one to this 
country, I assure you, where those native plants called 
7fieii to be wise must be healthy, and to be good must 
be happy, and there is no happiness without health.' 

The Margravine not only took the climate and the 
orchards of her country under her protection, but gave 
an enthusiastic welcome to any eccentric novelty that 
might be brought to her notice. Writing to Dr. 
Taylor from Southampton, where she had a small house, 
she tells him : ' I have just come from Petworth, where 
I saw Mr. Biddulph, a neighbour of Lord Egremonfs, 
who wishes to belong to our Society, as he believed most 
credulously in the extinction of all Golden Pippins, in 
the loss of the mother plant (what nonsense !). I am 
very desirous he should return to common sense, and 
believe that though Mother Eve is dead, I am alive. 
I could not do better than recommend him to get 
acquainted with you, when he will return to truth, and 
eat good apples. I find Lord Egremont belongs to 
us. I raved about the woollen sacks to him. I have 
some thoughts of having harness made of woollen ropes 
dyed black, and by my example introducing them for 
posting all over this kingdom ; for in this last journey of 
mine, as in many others, I have been much delayed by 
leather breaking. You may think me in jest ; I never 
was more serious in my life ; but my nature is so 
cheerful, that I cannot talk of anything that pleases me 
much very gravely. Therefore, I beg you will mention 
my idea to the gentleman who, in my opinion, deserves 
190 



LADY CRAVEN 

to have his statue cast in gold for what he has already 
done with fleeces. Give my compliments to him, and 
say if anything I could use of his manufactory could 
hold up to my country the advantages I see in his 
discovery, I would not disdain to wear one of his sacks 
as a shawl, and recommend the hanging with some of 
his ropes all those who do not venerate him as I do.' 

Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe seems to have made the 
acquaintance of the Margi'avine in 1809, through her 
son Keppel, who was one of his most intimate friends. 
' Everybody knows," he writes on the fly-leaf of a volume 
of her autograph letters, ' that she was the daughter of 
Lord Berkeley, and afterwards married to Lord Craven. 
When I was acquainted with her she had the remains of 
much beauty, which she disfigured with an immense 
quantity of rouge and burnt cork, as, I think, on her 
eyebrows. She was very graceful, and could assume, 
when she pleased, the manners of the best times ; she 
composed music prettily, but spoilt her songs by singing 
them with a cracked voice ; she danced well, and was an 
excellent shot. I am told that she never was a toler- 
able actress, though fond of exhibiting herself on the 
stage. . . . Her beauty, her talents, her good fortune, 
and her bad temper created her numerous enemies. She 
makes a figure in many scandalous works, such as The 
Memoirs of' the Due de Lauzun, The Female Jockey 
Club, etc."* Sharpe made a charming drawing of the 
Margravine, which represents her as a very pretty 
and picturesque woman, apparently of not more than 
four- or five-and-thirty. 

In December 1809 the Margravine writes to Sharpe : 
' Keppel tells me you mean positively to come here, 
which I am very glad of, as I cannot help auguring well 

191 



LADY CRAVEN 

of a person who, in such times as these, could, dc son 
propre chcf^ chuse the time and the people and the 
manners in Louis xiv.'s reign to make them his recrea- 
tion ; for I am quite of La Rochefoucalfs or La 
Bruyere"'s opinion — ' qu'^une bonne education est la vraie 
religion mondaine' — to believe in which, and more, to 
practise, would prevent those eternal dissensions in 
families, and those quarrels in society, which render it 
impossible to find society in this country — and Keppel 
tells me I shall delight you by telling you stories about 
my great-aunt. Lady Albemarle, who saw the Duchess 
of Portsmouth, and other great-aunts and uncles who 
have seen those who were their models.' 

In February 1810 she writes again : ' I wonder what 
he [Keppel] will say to the Morning Herald, that has 
begun a series of impertinent falsehoods against me 
which, I trust, will amount at last to give me an opporr 
tunity of punishing them. If I wrote like my ancestors, 
I should pass unnoticed perhaps. I think the liberty of 
the press very oppressing ; and as everything in the 
political world tends to put England out of Europe, I 
believe I must go out of England to find civilisation. 
. . . All who wish me well are delighted at my having 
escaped from a Prussian robbery, for such was Prince 
Ferdinand's claim to deprive me of what the Margrave 
left me at Anspach. I am told London is very dull ; 
everything is carried on in a dark lanthorn way ; every- 
thing is a mystery, a secret ! You meet people, but 
they turn the blind against your eyes. I have some 
idea there will be a regency or something.'' 

In the spring of 1811 the Margravine, who had little 
toleration for her sister scribes, writes to assure Mr. 
Sharpe that ' the Berrys' letters of Mrs. du Deffand are 
192 



LADY CRAVEN 

a great catchpenny. The notes which give information 
relative to the French families and people are most 
of them false. Nothing can be so absurd too as an 
English preface to a French book, . . . The Duke of 
Clarence wants to marry the gentle, elegant, and truth- 
telling widow ycleped the Countess of Berkeley. The 
whole world is gone mad ; and I have more reason than 
ever for congratulating the Margravine of Anspach, your 
friend and admirer, that she had a governess who formed 
her mind of peaceful and humble materials, for I think 
virtues are corks that make one swim while others sink. 
Now I must intreat you to order Lord Worcester never 
to express any admiration of her — to any female. If 
he conceives that idea of her which your partiality more 
than her merit may encourage, let it lie, like a violet in 
the shade, to be of any use to him in the future.' 

In August of the same year the Margravine sent her 
correspondent a little ' sonnet,' or more properly, ballad, 
called Tlie Holiday of L'lfe^ which she had written and 
set to music. This artificial trifle may be quoted as a 
fair specimen of her poetical powers : — 

' Coliu met Sylvia on the green 

Once, 'twas the charming first of May, 

And shepherds ne'er tell false, I ween — 

By chance they met, as shepherds say. 

Colin he blushed and bowed, then said, 
" Will you, sweet maid, this first of May, 

Begin the dance, by Colin led. 
To make this quite his holiday } " 

Sylvia replied, "I ne'er from home 
Yet ventured till this first of May ; 

Say, is it fit for maids to roam. 
And make a shepherd's holiday?" 

N 193 



LADY CRAVEN 

" It is most fit," replied the youth, 

"That Sylvia should, this first of May, 

By me be taught that love and truth 
Can make of life a holiday." ' 

' Take care," writes the author, ' that if any of your 
Scotch nightingales sing it, they don't hurry, for the time 
that it is sung in will make or mar the air. ... I know 
nobody will sing it as well as I can, because nobody 
could ever sing any music I ever composed to please my 
feelings. But that is no matter ; 'tis not the first of 
my brats that have been murdered after I produced 
them. I have made up my mind to death and destruc- 
tion. And now I must inform you that I am going to 
restore to Lady Craven's Tour to Constantinople all 
the fine things which were very wisely left out.' The 
Margravine asks her correspondent for a drawing for 
this new edition of her book. ' I would have,' she says, 
' the dedication to the Margrave's ashes in an urn, my 
figure (the face hid in drapery) holding it, and stand- 
ing on a cloud — having left the world — which might 
have the globe in the bottom of the drawing, if you like 
to do it.' 

In another letter, dated September 1811, the Mar- 
gravine announces her intention of letting Benham and 
retiring to Brandenburgh House to arrange about the 
publication of her letters, in order, as she says, that she 
may save her memory from the mischief done to Lady 
Mary Wortley Montagu's. ' Nobody shall write my 
travels and letters after I am dead. Grimm and Meister 
were the correspondents of the Margrave, the Empress 
of Russia, and many other northern princes. I have 
rectieils of twenty-five volumes in manuscript; it would 
194 



LADY CRAVEN 

be foolish to myself and a wrong to posterity if I had 
not them published.'' 

Like most elderly ladies (and gentlemen), the Mar- 
gravine was firmly convinced that the times were out of 
joint, and that the country was going to the dogs. It must 
be confessed that in the early years of the nineteenth 
century there were some grounds for gloomy prophecies. 
* We are in a pretty scrape,^ she writes in October 1811 ; 
' Government has sent out orders for sailing and counter- 
sailing, marching and counter-marching, and Jersey, 
Guernsey, Ireland, Spain, Portugal, Sussex coast, and 
Kentish marshes are all to be guarded together. I have 
no idea of a Government making itself so ridiculous. 
How Buonaparte must laugh ! We want nothing to 
stamp our eternal folly but to do as we did in the time 
of the Danes — bribe them with our money to retire 
from our coasts, which with that money they attacked 
again with fresh vigour.' But the climate was, in her 
opinion, an even worse off'ender than the Government. 
Writing from Weymouth in August 1812, she complains : 
' We have seen the sun three times in one month. Every- 
body feels the influence of the eternal fogs and vapours 
by growling, grumbling, hanging, murdering, or dying 
suddenly ; but nobody suggests the only remedy, which 
is filling up the navigable cuts. I began Lord Byron's 
Childc Harold. Could not get through it — a qiioy 
remait-il? ... I did not tell you that I went to 
Drapers' Hall in the city to see a picture of Mary 
Queen of Scots. 'Tis a very fine one, and in that I can 
see what the Scotch mean by my likeness, though I am 
too humble to think I deserve the compliment. ... I 
wish all the wars were ended. I was obliged to tell my 
coachmaker the other day that black and white mixed 

195 



LADY CRAVEN 

ad vol. makes grey. Ignorance in all the arts keeps 
pace with the increase of armies. I shall shut myself 
up in my library at my return, and let seas of ink flow 
over paper plains until my conscience is satisfied, and 
then recreate myself with composing some melody so gay 
and original as you can hear massacred by others after I 
have played it to you unmassacred.' 

Kirkpatrick Sharpe took the greatest delight in 
listening to the Margravine anecdotes about old times, 
and the distinguished people she had known in her 
eventful youth. It was he who suggested to her that 
she should write down her recollections, ' as French 
ladies who remember anything (and nothing) always do, 
and English ladies now and then.' The Margravine 
was flattered at the idea, but unfortunately her AntoUo- 
graphij (which was dedicated to the Duke of York) is 
not so much a record of her personal recollections as a 
rechauffe of her various but undigested reading. In 
describing the famous persons with whom she was 
brought in contact, she seems to have drawn upon 
biographies and encyclopaedias instead of trusting to her 
own memories, and has given her readers threadbare 
facts instead of traits of character such as only a 
woman would have noticed. Hence, a large portion of 
the two bulky volumes consists of downright unadulter- 
ated padding. 

Keppel Craven, an exquisite of the first water (judg- 
ing by Sharpens portrait of him), and an intimate friend 
of Sir William Gell, was offered the post of Chamberlain 
to the Princess of Wales. His mother says that she 
could not ask him to reject the offer ; but she only con- 
sented to his accepting it on condition that he received 
no salary, and was not regarded as one of the house- 
196 



LADY CRAVEN 

hold. The Princess ordered her Chamberlain to attend 
her to Naples, whither, after the Battle of Waterloo, 
the Margravine followed her son. The King of Naples 
gave her two acres of land, on which she built a villa, 
and laid out a beautiful garden. Here, except for an 
occasional visit to England, she passed the remainder of 
her life. Brandenburgh House, which was usually in- 
habited by notorious tenants, was occupied by Queen 
Caroline in 1820-21. The Margravine, in spite of her 
son''s connection with Caroline, somewhat unaccountably 
took the part of George iv., and concludes her Auto- 
biography with the following panegyric on his virtues : 
' He has been universally admired for his urbanity, 
high accomplishments, and goodness of heart. His 
conduct to our sex has been unexampled ; and those 
who have had the happiness of knowing him, as I did, 
will not hesitate to do justice to his feelings where 
female delicacy was concerned. . . . His liberality 
never failed, even to his wife. He took her enormous 
debts upon himself, and made sacrifices which no 
other husband in the world would have made, had he 
been brought before Parliament, and placed in a similar 
position.' 

Our heroine, whose splendid constitution and high 
spirits never deserted her, amused herself up to the last 
by working in her garden, and corresponding with her 
friends in England on the shortcomings of her native land. 
In February 1816 she writes to Dr. Taylor, enclosing 
a little sketch of two methods of paving streets. < I have 
drawn,' she says, ' the manners of paving the streets 
a ritalienne with that « TAnglaise, in hopes you will 
observe that the wheels of carriages must eternally shake 
and disarrange the one and consolidate the other ; and 

197 



LADY CRAVEN 

I hope you will get all the streets of London paved 
a ritalienne. I lament that our Society has lost the 
Duke of Norfolk. I do not think we shall ever find a 
President who will distribute prizes and make speeches 
with so much grace as our much lamented Duke of 
Norfolk. Pray let me know who is chosen in his place, 
and if you have tempted by a large reward some atmo- 
spherical and physical calculator to propose doing away 
with the navigable cuts, Paddington canals, and junction 
canals that poison the atmosphere of England and rob 
her of her best productions. I know money will be held 
up as a barrier to the crime of spoiling land and creat- 
ing noxious vapours ; but money is useless dirt, and 
ought to be trodden under foot when it not only cannot 
purchase health and wholesome food, but is used as a 
vehicle to convey sickness and the first of human miseries 
all over our island. . . . 

^ May 30, 1816. — I write to you now on account of 
what I saw of Mr. Curwen's anxiety about the relief of 
the poor, and the little knowledge some of the members 
of the House of Commons seem to possess of the mischief 
arising from having Poor Rates at all in any parish. 
AVhen I first settled at Brandenburgh House, I was at 
some pains to find out the use made of the many legacies 
given in annual payments to the poor of different 
parishes — charitable institutions, gifts of land, etc. 
LTpon a very small circle round and near the metropolis 
I found the poor ought to be rich. Why were they not 
so ? Because independent noblemen and gentlemen have 
left off" investigating the use of monies for the poor. 
Villainous tradesmen of every description are left to 
handle and disburse and make what use they please of 
the money allotted to the poor by legacies, subscriptions, 
198 



LADY CRAVEN 

or annual rates, and near me they made no scruple to 
pay their score of three shillings a head for their dinners 
at a tavern out of the money collected that day for 
the poor, which so shocked a person present that he 
threw his three shillings on the table, and refused to 
belong to the overseers. The money of the turnpikes 
on the Bath Road is perverted in the same way. Till 
Government sends agents to examine into all this, people 
as charitably inclined as I am must grieve in silence. A 
partial examination will not do — it must be all over the 
kingdom at once, and I aver that it will be found that 
legacies, gifts, foundations, etc., make all poor-rates 
unnecessary. That the lower orders are wretched, and 
the higher deprived of half the luxuries they enjoyed 
thirty years ago, I am certain, but it is owing to a want 
of police. Here [in England] half their butter and all 
their eggs come from France. Butchers and farmers 
are too rich and monopolising, and only an investiga- 
tion into causes will cure their dismal results.' 

The last glimpse we get of the Margravine is given 
us by Madden in his Life of' Lady Blessington. Madden 
was at Naples with the Blessingtons in 1822, and there 
he saw the ' beautiful, gay, and fascinating Lady Craven ' 
of Boswell, transformed into a withered and wrinkled 
old woman, who might have sat for one of the witches 
in Macbeth. She still retained her sprightliness and 
vivacity, which contrasted very painfully with the wreck 
of her former beauty. Lord Charles Murray, who was 
in Naples at the same time, and who had only just 
recovered from a fit cf temporary insanity, persuaded 
Madden to take him to call upon the Margravine, whom 
he had apparently known in former days. The two found 
the lady digging in her garden, dressed, as was her custom, 

199 



LADY CRAVEN 

in coarse and singular attire, ' a desiccated, antiquated 
piece of mortality."* Lord Charles, excited by her extra- 
ordinary appearance, presently lost his self-control, and 
burst into a torrent of reprehension, calling up reminis- 
cences of a disagreeable nature, and rumours of strange 
occurrences in various parts of the globe. While the 
Margravine stood listening in mingled consternation and 
amazement. Madden tried to hurry his friend away. But 
Lord Charles insisted that he must show his hostess a new 
way of entering a carriage, and, taking a flying leap, he 
dived head foremost through the window of the carriage, 
where he stuck fast, while his long legs waved wildly 
outside. With much difficulty Madden and a servant 
managed, by dint of breaking a window, to get the whole 
of his lordship inside, and the two drove off, leaving the 
Margravine more startled than impressed. 

In 1828 the Duke of Buckingham and Chandos, 
then staying in Naples, notes in his Memoirs the death 
of the Margravine of Anspach, to whose imposing 
funeral he was invited. ' Elizabeth ' (as she was accus- 
tomed to sign herself in royal fashion) left the bulk of 
her property to her favourite Keppel, who died at 
Naples in 1851. 

It cannot be affirmed that there is any very striking 
moral to be drawn from the J'aits et gestes of the Mar- 
gravine. Though she always lived as seemed best in her 
own eyes, she was loved and admired in her youth, 
attained exalted rank and wealth (if not respect) in 
middle life, and found interests and occupations for her 
old age. Even had her career been less successful than 
it actually was, she would have been happy, by reason of 
the abnormally-developed self-esteem that would have 
carried her triumphantly through a multitude of failures, 
200 



LADY CRAVEN 

To the end of her days it is evident that she regarded 
herself not only as a genius and a beauty, but as a pattern 
for wives, mothers, daughters, sisters, friends. What 
better gift need any mortal ask of the gods than an 
equally unpuncturable power of self-delusion ? 



201 



JAMES LACKINGTON 

BOOTMAKER AND BOOKSELLER 



JAMES LACKINGTON 

(1746-1815) 

Ix reading the biographical Hterature of the eighteenth 
century, memoirs, letters, and journals, we cannot but be 
struck by the almost total absence of documents dealing 
at first hand with the trading or labouring classes of the 
period. The populace seems to have been separated from 
its betters by a great gulf, not of hatred, but rather of 
indifference. Occasionally, in the letters of coffee-room 
wit or fashionable lady, there is an allusion to the 
uproarious doings of the 'mob,' while more rarely the 
citizen and his pretentious wife come in for a polite 
sarcasm. In country villages ruled over by a beneficent 
squire, the gulf was bridged to some extent by a charit- 
able interest in the 'deserving poor' or 'industrious 
cottagers,' which usually showed itself in some form of 
amiable tyranny. The net of the philanthropist was not 
widespread in those days, and it was only the 'deserving' 
who were patronised and assisted, the word 'deserving' 
being applied to those who bent the knee to the squire's 
liveries, and showed no desire to raise themselves above 
that state of life to which Providence had called them. 
If we have some faint notion of the manner in which 
the great lady regarded the mob that broke her windows, 

205 



JAMES LACKINGTON 

or the wit regarded the tradesmen who dunned him, we 
know practically nothing of the manner in which mob or 
tradesmen regarded wits and fashionable ladies. The 
labouring men who shouted for ' Wilkes and liberty,"* 
the butcher who sold his vote for a kiss from Devon- 
shire's Duchess — these are mere puppets who danced to 
the piping of political agitators, and, when the dance 
was over, were dropped back into their box, and the 
lid closed upon them. 

One record we possess, however, Avhich tells at first 
hand of the privations of working men and women, and 
of the struggles of small tradesmen, in the days when 
George in. was king. This is James Lackington's 
Memoirs of the First Forty -five Years of his Life, 
published in 1792. Lackington deserves to be com- 
memorated if only because he accomplished the almost 
superhuman feat, considering the period at which he 
lived, of rising unaided save by sheer strength of will 
and force of character from the humble obscurity of a 
shoemaker's apprentice to the proud eminence of a 
wealthy bookseller. Having only learned the art of 
writing after he came to manhood, it was hardly to be 
expected that his Memoirs should prove to be a work 
of much literary value ; but when the vulgarities, crudi- 
ties, and irrelevancies are cut away, we have a simple, 
straightforward [narrative which is valuable for the 
strong light it throws upon a subject that otherwise 
would remain wrapped in almost impenetrable mystery. 

The author of the Mcmoiis certainly did not begin life 
with any external advantages, since he was one of the 
eleven children of a drunken shoemaker. Like most 
remarkable men, however, he had a remarkable mother, 
who, to support her family, worked at her spinning-wheel 
206 



JAMES LACKINGTON 

for nineteen hours out of the twenty-four, living mean- 
while upon broth and vegetables. At the time of James's 
birth in August 1746, the family was living at Wellington 
in Somersetshire, where its nominal head had been set up 
in a shop by his father, a yeoman farmer. The future 
bookseller was sent to a dame school for two or three 
years ; but his mother being unable to keep up the 
payment of twopence a week, his education came to 
an abrupt conclusion, and he speedily forgot the little 
he had learned. But he was not idle ; for at the age of 
ten years he invented a new method of crying apple-pies, 
which commended itself to a local baker, who employed 
him in this office for about a year with extraordinary 
financial results. But at the end of this time James, 
having accidentally upset his employer's child out of a 
wheel-barrow, prudently decided to leave his situation, 
and, returning home, worked under his father at boot- 
making for the next two or three years. 

At fourteen James was formally apprenticed for seven 
years to a worthy couple at Taunton, Bowden by name, 
who worked at their shoemaking on six days in the 
week, and attended an Anabaptist chapel on the seventh. 
There were two sons of the house, aged seventeen and 
fourteen, good lads who had learned to read, write, cast 
up accounts, and do as they were bid. The family 
possessed but one book, a Bible, and their ideas were as 
circumscribed as their library. Their only relaxations 
consisted of a Sunday walk and an evening reading of 
the Scriptures, and all went early to bed, ' no one 
doubting but he should go to heaven when he died, and 
every one hoping it would be a good while first.' The 
master had a curious custom of rising every morning all 
the year round at three o'clock, when he took a walk by 

207 



JAMES LACKINGTON 

the river, stopped at an alehouse to drink half a pint, 
called up his people to work at six, and went to bed 
again at seven. 

But the peace of the family was destined to be rudely 
broken. When James had been apprentice about a 
year, the elder boy, George, heard a sermon by one of 
Mr. Wesley's preachers, which convinced him that the 
innocent life he had hitherto led would only take him 
deeper into hell ; in short, he discovered that he had 
never been converted, but was in a state of damnation. 
He presently persuaded himself that he had passed 
through the New Birth, and was quite certain that his 
name was registered in the Book of Life. Having 
assured his own safety, he began to be concerned for his 
family and friends, who, he feared, were in a parlous 
state. In the long winter evenings, as they sat at work, 
he proved to his own satisfaction that every man had 
enough original sin to damn a thousand souls, that 
morality was of no avail, good works being only splendid 
sins, and that by faith alone could man be saved. No 
one, however, could feel a proper amount of faith till he 
was justified, justification being a sudden operation on 
the soul, by means of which the most execrable wretch 
might be assured in one instant of all his sins being 
forgiven. This zealous young disciple of Wesley found 
his doctrine opposed by his own mother, who, honest 
woman, would sit with her Bible on her lap, from which 
she would read such passages as proved the necessity of 
good works, and refuted the tenets of original sin, 
imputed righteousness, and the like. The youthful 
theologian generally had the best of the argument, and 
his success induced his brother John to go and hear 
the new lights, from which expedition he returned in 
208 



JAMES LACKINGTON 

great agony of mind, declaring that he was eternally 
damned. 

The first effect of all these agitations upon the mind 
of the young apprentice was to arouse in him a desire 
for more knowledge, in order that he might judge which 
of the controversialists was in the right. Having an 
allowance of a halfpenny a week, he handed this over 
to John, who in return taught him to spell, the lessons 
taking place at night after the boys had been sent to 
bed, and being delivered in the oral method, since no 
candles were allowed. As soon as he had made a little 
progress James went to the Methodist meetings in his 
turn, caught the prevailing infection, and was horribly 
frightened by sermons about hell. However, after a 
month devoted to singing hymns and repeating texts, his 
imagination was worked up to the required pitch, and he 
was born again, becoming, to use his own words, a great 
favourite with heaven, and as familiar with the Trinity 
as any old woman in Mr. Wesley's connexion. 

A more practical result of James's conversion was his 
ever-increasing desire to learn to read. His working 
hours in the winter months lasted from six in the 
morning till ten at night, but in the summer he was 
only obliged to work as long as he could see without 
candles. It is difficult to imagine how he found time, as 
he assures us that he did, to read ten chapters in the 
Bible every day, besides portions of Mr. Wesley's sermons 
and tracts. His sight was so excellent, for one thing, 
that he often read by the light of the moon after going 
to bed. He had the courage to give his master and 
mistress broad hints about the perilous state of their 
souls, but they, worthy folk, relied for argument upon 
a good thick stick. For some time James attended his 
o 209 



JAMES LACKINGTON 

meetings without the knowledge or consent of his em- 
ployers; but as his zeal increased, he often ran away, 
against orders, to hear Methodist sermons. One Sunday 
his mistress locked him into his room, whereupon he 
opened his Bible for direction, and read, ' He has given 
his angels charge concerning thee, lest at any time thou 
dash thy foot against a stone.' Without hesitation, 
having received, as he fancied, heavenly direction, he ran 
up two pair of stairs and leaped out of the window. His 
feet and ankles were so terribly bruised that he had to 
be carried back into the house, and it was more than a 
month before he recovered the use of his limbs. ' I was 
io-norant enough to think,' he says, ' that the Lord had 
not used me very well, and resolved not to put so much 
trust in Him in future.' 

James had been apprenticed about four years when his 
master died ; and although Mr. Bowden had been a good 
husband, a good father, and a good master, yet, as he 
had not held the Methodist faith, his apprentice piously 
feared that he had gone straight to hell. The widow 
was of opinion that his death had been hastened by the 
conduct of his sons, who were dutiful lads before their 
conversion, but after they 'became saints' acted as though 
they expected to be fed and clothed by miracles. James 
was bound to his mistress for the remainder of his term ; 
but he obtained more liberty of conscience than before, 
was admitted a member of the Methodist sect, and for 
several years attended all the sermons and private 
meetings in the community. The various classes and 
bands were visited from time to time by Wesley in 
person, who gave advice and exhortations to his followers, 
seldom failing to speak in praise of celibacy to the maids 
and bachelors under his charge. James was a sincere 
210 



JAMES LACKINGTON 

enthusiast from the time that he was converted at 
sixteen until he reached the age of one-and-twenty, 
insomuch that he stood forward as the champion of 
Methodism wherever he went. 

This strict mode of life came to an end with an elec- 
tion at Taunton, when, as young Lackington possessed a 
vote (it does not appear how he got the qualification), 
the few months he had still to serve were bought off by 
the friends of the candidates, and he was set free in the 
midst of a scene of riot and dissipation. For a time 
his religion was forgotten, though at the bottom of his 
heart he confesses that he was always uneasy, and felt 
certain that he should be damned for his backsliding. 
When the election was over he began to reconsider his 
position, which was rather a serious one, even from a 
temporal point of view. He had been dismissed from 
a new situation on account of a love-aflair with a milk- 
maid ; not that his employer objected to the intrigue on 
moral grounds, but because the lover refused to buy milk 
from another milkwoman who was one of his master's 
customers. The young journeyman now determined to 
go and seek work at Bristol, and was accompanied as 
far as Exbridge by his sweetheart. Here scruples of 
conscience made him resolve to break off the connection ; 
and although his capital only amounted to three shillings 
and a penny, he bestowed half a crown upon her, and 
continued his journey alone. 

On the evening of his arrival at Bristol, James obtained 
what was called ' a seat of work,' and took a lodging in 
the house of a fellow-craftsman. It may here be noted, 
as illustrative of the conditions of working life at that 
period, that our hero, in the course of many peregrina- 
tions from one place to another, only on one occasion 

211 



JAMES LACKINGTON 

failed to obtain employment for the asking. The 
journeyman seems to have carried his skill in his craft 
as a sort of circular note or letter of credit, which was 
honoured to the extent of a living wage wheresoever it 
might be presented. In his new home James became 
acquainted with a young man named John Jones, who 
was employed in making women''s stuff shoes for ware- 
houses. The two youths became infected with a genuine 
literary enthusiasm, and were anxious to buy books ; but 
so great was their ignorance, that they knew not what 
to ask for in the shops, having scarcely heard the titles 
of any but religious works ; and there were then, we are 
assured, thousands of persons in the same situation. 

One day, when the friends were on a visit to the annual 
fair, they perceived a stall of second-hand books, and 
among its contents found Hobbes's translation of the 
Iliad and the Odyssey. James happened to have heard 
that Homer was a great poet, but he had never heard 
of Pope^s translation, so he eagerly bought that of 
Hobbes, together with Walker's Poetical Paraphrase of 
JEpictetus, and the young men went home delighted with 
their bargain. They were, as might be expected, dis- 
appointed with Homer as rendered by Hobbes, both on 
account of the obscurity of the translation and its lack 
of poetical merit. But Epictetus was easily read and 
understood, and James was so charmed by the principles 
of the Stoics that he carried the book with him wherever 
he went. 

In Bristol Lackington fell once more under the influence 
of Wesley, who was preaching at Broadmead ; and being 
weary of his present mode of life, his former fanatical 
notions returned hot upon him. His friend John soon 
perceived with grief and indignation that the once gay, 
212 



JAMES LACKINGTON 

volatile young fellow was transformed into a dull, 
moping, psalm-singing Methodist, continually reprehend- 
ing all about him for their harmless mirth and gaiety. 
After a while Lackington succeeded in converting his 
friend's younger brother and sister, and finally, after a 
sharp struggle, the great Mr, John Jones himself. The 
four, being all convinced that they were the favourites 
of heaven, now made a holy community, and worked 
harder than ever in order to buy religious books. Soon 
they had acquired a varied collection, which included all 
Bunyan's works, Hervey's Meditations, Baxter's Call to 
the Unconverted, and many sensationally-entitled tracts. 
So anxious were these remarkable people to read a great 
deal, that they only allowed themselves three hours' sleep 
out of the twenty-four, and each took it in turns to read 
aloud to the rest. This plan of living they continued 
until they had made considerable progress in spiritual 
knowledge, and mastered the various arguments used by 
polemical divines. In order to guard his companions 
from false doctrines, James, who was their recognised 
leader, used to engage them in controversies in which 
he took different sides, becoming in turn a Calvinist, 
an Arian, a Socinian, a Deist, and even an Atheist. 

In the course of his reading Lackington discovered 
that there had been sects of philosophers among the 
Greeks and Romans. In order to extend his knowledge 
he bought the works of Plato, Plutarch, Seneca, and 
Epicurus, and soon came to the conclusion that he 
derived more real moral benefit from them than from 
any of his other books. Thanks to his new-found 
philosophy, he grew to despise material pleasures, and 
for some time confined himself to bread and tea, in 
order that he might have more money to spare for books. 

213 



JAMES LACKINGTON 

This mode of life he continued until he left Bristol in 
1769, having persuaded his friend Jones of the advantages 
of travel. The friends started together ; but John obtain- 
ing work at Bridgewater, James journeyed on alone till 
he found employment at Kingsbridge, and settled down 
in that city. Here he was fortunate in having a master 
who treated him as a friend rather than as a workman. 
This good man, noticing that his assistant was obliged 
to employ friends to write his letters for him, observed 
that it was a pity he did not learn to write for himself. 

' The idea pleased me so much,' observes James, ' that 
I set about it without any delay, by taking up pieces of 
paper that had writing upon them, and imitating them 
as well as I could. I employed my leisure in this way 
for nearly two months, after which I wrote my own 
letters, in a bad hand you may be sure, but it was plain 
and easy to read, which was all I cared for." After 
staying about a year at Kingsbridge, where wages were 
low, he decided to return to Bristol ; but stopped at 
Bridgewater on the way, where he renewed his acquaint- 
ance with a charming dairy-maid named Nancy Smith, 
not the partner of his early escapade, but a respectable 
young woman whom he had courted in his ' prentice ' 
days, when he had mingled lovemaking with spiritual 
advice and consolation. The pair had scarcely met for 
seven years, but at the sight of his old sweetheart James 
felt his passion revive. With his usual directness he 
informed his Nancy that his attachment to books had 
prevented his saving any money, and that until he 
married he was never likely to accumulate anything. 
This was not exactly a tempting preface to an offer of 
marriage; but Nancy being an unworldly maiden, agreed 
to take pity on him, and the pair proceeded to Bristol 
214 



JAMES LACKINGTON 

to get married. A furnished lodging was taken at a rental 
of two -and -sixpence a week ; and the expenses of the 
wedding-day so completely exhausted the young couple"'s 
resources, that on turning out their pockets next morn- 
ing they found that they possessed but one halfpenny 
between them. Fortunately, they had laid in provisions 
enough to last a day or two ; and as they knew that they 
could easily earn enough for their wants, they very cheer- 
fully set to work, singing, as they stitched, Dr. Cotton^s 

verses : — 

' Our portion is not large indeed. 
But then how little do we need ? 

For nature's calls are few — 
In this the art of living lies. 
To want no more than may suffice, 
And make that little do.' 

The young husband now obtained a ' seat of stuff 
{i.e. stuff shoes) at Bristol, but he could not at first earn 
more than nine shillings a week, and his wife could make 
but little, as she was learning to bind shoes. A debt of 
forty shillings having been claimed by the once friendly 
Jones, the couple paid it off in the space of two months, 
during the whole of which period they made four-and- 
sixpence a week suffice for their board. ' Strong beer 
we had none,' writes James, 'and instead of tea or coffee 
we toasted a piece of bread ; at other times we fried 
wheat which, when boiled in water, made a tolerable 
substitute for coffee. As to animal food, we had very 
little, and that little we made broth of. During the 
whole of this time we never once wished for anything 
we had not got, but were quite contented, and with a 
good grace in reality made a virtue of necessity.' 

It is not surprising that after the debt was paid, both 
husband and wife were taken so ill as to be confined 

215 



JAMES LACKINGTON 

to bed. They had two-and-ninepence locked up as a 
resource in an emergency, and this supported them until 
Lackington recovered. His wife now suffered from a 
long series of illnesses caused by the sudden change of 
air and work, she having always been accustomed to a 
healthy out-of-door life. During the first six months 
of her indisposition, James lived entirely on Avater and 
gruel, his wages being required for medicines and more 
dainty food for the invalid. At last, thinking that her 
native air would do her good, he threw up his work and 
removed to Taunton. Here wages were so low that the 
pair only stayed until Nancy"'s health was restored, when 
they returned to Bristol. In the course of the next two 
years and a half the move to Taunton on account of 
health, and back to Bristol on account of wages, was made 
no less than five times. 

With the view of improving his position, Lackington 
decided at length to go to London ; but not having 
sufficient money in hand to pay for the double coach- 
fare, he went to town alone, arranging to send for his 
wife as soon as he had saved enough to pay for her 
journey. On arriving in London with the proverbial 
half-crown in his pocket, he found a lodging with a 
fellow-Methodist, and had no difficulty in obtaining 
work. His first inquiry was for one of Mr. Wesley's 
' Gospel shops,"" where, on producing his band and class 
tickets, he was admitted to the same religious privileges 
that he had enjoyed in the country. 'At this time,' he 
writes, ' I was as visionary and superstitious as ever ; for 
although I had read some sensible books, and acquired 
a few rational ideas, yet having had a Methodist wife 
for three years, and keeping Methodist company, the 
few liberal ideas I had treasured up were in a dormant 
216 



JAMES LACKINGTON 

state, or borne down by a torrent of enthusiastic notions 
and fanatical chimeras. ... It was several weeks before 
I could firmly resolve to continue in London, as I really 
was struck with horror for the fate of it, more particu- 
larly on Sundays, finding that so few people went to 
church, and that the lower class spent the day in getting 
drunk, quarrelling, buying, selling, etc. I seriously 
trembled for fear that the measure of iniquity was quite 
full, and that every hour would be its last.' 

Consoling himself with the notion that if London was 
a second Sodom he was a second Lot, Lackington settled 
down to his work, and at the end of a month had saved 
enough money to pay for his wife''s fare to town. Having 
now plenty of work and higher wages, the couple were 
more easy in their circumstances, and were able to buy 
some new clothes. 'My wife," says James, 'had done 
very well all her life with a superfine broadcloth cloak, 
but now I persuaded her to have one of silk. Until 
this winter I had never found that I wanted a great 
coat, but now I made that important discovery.' About 
this time came the news that Lackington's grandfather, 
the yeoman farmer, was dead, and had left each of his 
grandchildren ten pounds. This particular heir being 
unable to think of any practicable method of having 
such a prodigious sum sent up to London, was obliged 
to spend a considerable portion of his legacy in going to 
fetch it. On the way back he was nearly frozen to 
death outside the coach, and lost sixteen shillings through 
a hole in his pocket. However, he reached home with 
the remnant of his guineas sewn up in his clothes, and 
his wife piously thanked Providence for such a splendid 
fortune, only hoping that the Lord would enable them 
to make a good use of it. 

217 



JAMES LACKINGTON 

With this capital the pair furnished a room, and work 
continuing plentiful. James was able occasionally to add 
an old book to his collection. He tells the following 
story against himself in this connection, which sounds 
as though it might have happened to a humble cousin 
of the immortal Vicar : — 

'At the time we were purchasing household goods we 
kept ourselves short of money, and on Christmas Eve 
had but half a crown wherewith to buy a dinner. My 
wife desired I would go to Market and purchase this 
feast, but in the way I saw an old book-shop, and could 
not resist going in, intending to expend sixpence or 
ninepence out of my half-crown. But I stumbled on 
Young's Night Thoughts — down went my half-crown, 
and I hastened home, vastly delighted with my acquisi- 
tion. When my wife asked where was our Christmas 
dinner, I told her that it was in my pocket. " In your 
pocket," said she. " That is a strange place. How 
could you think of stuffing a piece of meat into your 
pocket?" I assured her that it would take no harm, 
and began to harangue on the superiority of intellectual 
pleasures over sensual gratifications, I was proceeding 
in this strain. " And so," said she, " instead of buying 
a dinner, I suppose you have been buying books with 
the money?" I then confessed that I had bought 
Young's Night Thoughts. " And I think," said I, 
" that I have acted wisely ; for had I bought a dinner, 
we should have eaten it to-morrow, and the pleasure 
would have been soon over ; but should we live fifty years 
longer, we shall have the Night Thoughts to feast upon." 
This was too powerful an argument to admit of any 
further debate, in short, my wife was convinced."* It 
must be allowed that if the hero of this anecdote was a 
218 



JAMES LACKINGTON 

remarkable man, he possessed an even more extraordi- 
nary wife. A Mrs. Primrose would hardly have been so 
complaisant. 

In Jmie 1774 it was suggested to Lackington that 
if he were to take a little shop which was to let in 
Featherston Street, he might obtain work as a master 
shoemaker. He was attracted by the idea, and observed 
that he might sell books as well as boots, since if he 
could but be a bookseller he would always have plenty 
to read, which was the strongest motive that he could 
conceive for making the attempt. His private library 
consisted of a few old religious works ; and he bought 
for one guinea a bagful of books, the property of a 
deceased Methodist. With this modest stock, and 
some scraps of leather, worth in all about five pounds, 
he opened his little shop on Midsummer Day, and was 
highly delighted with his promotion. ' My good wife,"* 
he tells us, 'perceiving the pleasure I had in my shop, 
piously cautioned me against setting my mind on the 
riches of this world, and assured me that it was all but 
vanity. " You are right, my dear," I replied. " And 
to keep our minds as spiritual as we can, Ave will always 
attend our class and band-meetings, hear as many 
sermons at the Foundry on week-days as possible, and 
on the Sabbath we will mind nothing but the good of 
our souls. Our small beer shall be fetched on Saturday 
nights, and we will not dress even a potato on the 
Sabbatii. We will still attend the preaching at five in 
the morning ; at eight go to the prayer-meeting ; at ten 
to the public worship at the Foundry ; ^ hear Mr. Perry 

^ The Foundry was a disused Government building for the casting of 
brass ordnance, situated on Windmill Hill, now Tabernacle Street, 
Finsbury Square. Wesley began to preach here in 1739. 

219 



JAMES LACKINGTON 

at the Cripplegate at two ; be at the preaching at the 
Foundry at five; meet with the general society at six; 
meet in the united bands at seven ; again be at the 
prayer-meeting at eight ; and then come home and read 
and pray by ourselves."" One would have thought that 
only a Scotsman could draw up such a programme of 
religious exercises for the day of rest. 

As soon as the first lot of old books was sold, Lack- 
ington borrowed five pounds from a fund established by 
Wesley for the assistance of deserving members, and 
increased his little stock ; but he and his wife continued 
to live in the most frugal fashion, chiefly on potatoes 
and water. By the end of six months the value of the 
stock had increased from five to twenty-five pounds. 
This immense property its owner thought too valuable 
to be buried in Featherston Street, so he moved to a 
shop in Chiswell Street, where he bade a final adieu to 
the 'gentle craft,"" and converted all his leather into 
old books. There was one class of literature that he 
refused to sell, namely, free-thinking works, which he 
conscientiously destroyed when they fell into his hands. 
All went well with the business until September 1775, 
when Lackington fell ill of a violent fever. Ten days 
later his wife was seized with the same disorder, of which 
she died 'in enthusiastic rant on November the 9th, 
surrounded by Methodist preachers."" 

Her husband observes that ' she was in reality one of 
the best of women ; and although for about four years 
she was ill the greater part of the time, which involved 
me in the very depth of poverty and distress, yet I never 
once repented having married her. 'Tis true she was 
enthusiastical to an extreme, and of course very super- 
stitious and visionary ; but as I was pretty far gone myself, 
220 



JAMES LACKINGTON 

I did not think that a fault in her. Indeed, she much 
excelled me, and most others that ever fell under my 
observation, as she totally disregarded every kind of 
pleasure whatever but that of a spiritual nature. Me- 
thinks, I see you smile, but I assure you she made no 
exception, but was a complete devotee, and what is more 
remarkable, without pride or ill-nature/ 

After lying ill for many weeks, Lackington recovered, 
contrary to all expectation. Some eighteenth-century 
prototypes of Mrs. Gamp had kept themselves in liquor 
at his expense, and stolen all his linen ; but fortunately 
some friends had locked up his shop, which contained all 
his little savings, or probably they too would have dis- 
appeared. As soon as he was about again he learned that 
the lady who kept the house, and from whom he rented 
his shop, had also caught the fever, and was lying danger- 
ously ill. He was aware that she had supported her 
father, now dead, by keeping a school and doing plain 
needlework, and he felt convinced that so good a daughter 
would make a good wife. He also knew that she was 
immoderately fond of books, and frequently read till 
morning ; and ' this turn of mind was,' he writes, ' the 
greatest of all recommendations to me who, having 
acquired a few ideas, was restless to increase them ; so 
that I was in raptures at the thought of having a woman 
to read with and to read to me. I embraced the first 
opportunity after her recovery to make her acquainted 
with my mind ; and as we were not strangers to each 
other, there was no need of a long formal courtship. 
So I prevailed on her not to defer our union longer than 
January 30th, 1776, when for the second time I entered 
into the holy estate of matrimony.' It will be observed 
that the widower remained faithful to the memory of 

221 



JAMES LACKINGTON 

the best woman in the world for something less than 
three months. 

Lackington declares that his mind now began to 
expand, and he learned for the first time to enjoy innocent 
pleasures without the fear of being eternally damned for 
a laugh, a joke, or a sociable visit. He also set himself 
to read the works of rational and moderate divines, and 
even to wander in the mazes of metaphysics, so that it 
is hardly surprising he did not remain much longer in 
Wesley's society. Indeed, Wesley himself was accustomed 
to say that he could never keep a bookseller in his fold for 
more than six months. Our hero's desertion of Methodism 
seems to have been hastened by his discovery that the 
preachers, who were continually reproving employers for 
keeping their servants at home on Sundays to dress hot 
dinners, themselves refused even to sup without roast 
fowls and other luxuries. At the same time that he 
condemns this hypocrisy, Lackington refused to admit 
that the Methodists were in general the vile sect of 
hypocrites for which they were commonly denounced. 
He was convinced that great numbers of them were 
sincere, honest, friendly people, though there were others 
who took advantage of the Methodist phrases and customs 
to advertise their own honesty and sobriety. Thus one 
pious brother printed on a board, ' Tripe and cow heels 
sold here as usual, except on the Lord's Day, which the 
Lord help vie to keep ' ; while another, a village worthy, 
proclaimed, 'Roger Tuttel, by God's grace and mercy ^ 
kills rats, moles, and all sorts of vermin.' 

The new Mrs. Lackington helped forward her husband 

in his business, her knowledge of books enabling her to 

act as an unpaid assistant. The proprietor of the little 

shop soon found that he might sell double and treble 

222 



JAMES LACKINGTON 

the number of volumes if only he had the capital where- 
with to buy a bigger stock. But being almost a stranger 
in London, he was without credit, and often was obliged 
to pawn his watch and clothes in order to purchase 
parcels of desirable books. At length a neighbouring 
oilman showed his faith in the bookseller's capacity by 
offering to advance him the money necessary to increase 
his stock, about two hundred pounds. The offer was 
accepted, and in 1778 the first catalogue was printed, 
which contained the titles of no less than twelve thousand 
volumes. The business continued to prosper, and in 1780 
Lackington decided to try a new experiment. In future 
he would give no more credit, but would run his business 
strictly upon ready-money lines. His notion was scoffed 
at by most of his fellow-tradesmen, but he paid no heed, 
and marked every book at the lowest possible price for 
ready money, which, being much lower than the ordinary 
market-price, soon brought a great influx of customers. 

To modern writers the views of this eighteenth-century 
bookseller on the thorny question of publishing should be 
interesting, though they would certainly be condemned 
by the Society of Authors. Nothing, he declares, is 
more common than to hear authors complaining against 
publishers for want of liberality in purchasing their 
manuscripts ; but this complaint he held to be groundless, 
and claimed that publishers showed even more liberality 
than other business men. ' It ought to be considered,"" 
he continues, ' that the money that is paid for the copy 
is frequently but trifling compared with the expense 
of printing, paper, and advertising ; and that many 
publishers have sustained great losses through their 
liberality in buying manuscripts, though on the other 
hand it must be acknowledged that a small number of 

223 



JAMES LACKINGTON 

publishers have made great fortunes by their copy- 
rights/ As an instance of the folly of authors he tells 
an anecdote of a gentleman who, when publishing a book 
at his own expense, wished to print as many copies as 
there were families in Great Britain. As a concession to 
his publisher's views he consented to print a first edition 
of only 60,000 copies. Finally, the number was reduced 
to 1250 ; but though the work was well advertised, 
not a hundred copies were sold. Lackington, as might 
be expected, did not approve of authors keeping their 
copyrights, and declared that publishers seldom do their 
best under such an agreement. 

Even after unexpected prosperity had blessed his 
basket and his store, Mr. Lackington continued for some 
years his careful and frugal mode of life, taking down 
his own shutters, pricing his own books, and writing 
his own catalogues. At first, to use his own words, 'I 
welcomed a friend with a shake of the hand, but a year 
later I beckoned across the way for a pot of good porter. 
A few years after that I sometimes invited my friends 
to dinner, and provided them with a roasted fillet of 
veal ; in a progressive course the ham was introduced, 
and a pudding made the next addition to the feast. For 
some time a glass of brandy and water was a luxury; 
raisin wine succeeded ; and as soon as two-thirds of my 
profits allowed me to afford good, red port, it appeared 
on my table, nor was sherry long behind.' In the same 
gradual fashion a stage-coach was transformed into a 
chariot, and a suburban lodging into a country house. 

' For four years Holloway was to me an Elysium ; then 

Surrey appeared the most beautiful county in England, 

and Merton the most rural village ; so now Merton was 

selected as the seat of philosophical retirement.' The 

224 



JAMES LACKINGTON 

neighbours all prophesied bankruptcy, especially when 
Mr. and Mrs. Lackington took to horse exercise ; but 
when the expected catastrophe failed to arrive, it Avas 
generally believed that the lucky man must have won 
a big prize in a lottery, or found a bundle of banknotes 
between the leaves of some old book. 

If ever there was the right man in the right place, 
it must have been James Lackington in a bookseller's 
shop. His early passion for literature seems never to 
have grown blunted, even when he had the most 
abundant opportunities of satisfying it. He read every- 
thing : philosophy, poetry, history, travels, translations 
of the classics, novels, plays, and latterly even free-think- 
ing works. For the study of human nature he believed 
that there was no place like a book-shop, especially if 
the master happened to be of an inquisitive and com- 
municative turn of mind. To him would come Simple 
Simon for the Jy't of Writing Love Letters, a doubting 
Christian for Crumbs of Covrf'ort, an atheist for Ham- 
mond's Letter to Dr. Priestly, a beau for The Toilet of 
Flora, a courtier for Macchiavelli's Pi-ince, a republican 
for Paine's Rights of Man, and, in short, every man for 
his literary fancy. Lackington's talent for observation 
was useful to him in his business, and he assures us that 
he was generally able to foretell to his friends at the 
beginning of a year how much money he would make in 
the course of it, basing his calculations upon the state 
of Europe and his own stock-in-trade. 'If there is any- 
thing of consequence in the newspapers,"* he observes, ' it 
draws men to the coffee-house, where they chat away the 
evenings instead of visiting booksellers'' shops, or reading 
at home. The best time for book-selling is when there 
is nothing stirring, for then many of those who for 
p 225 



JAMES LACKINGTON 

months have done nothing but talk of war and peace, 
I'evolutions or counter-revolutions, will have recourse to 
reading." These remarks have been indorsed almost word 
for word by booksellers during the recent war. 

The sale of books quadrupled itself between 1770 and 
1790, many of the small farmers and country labourers 
having taken to reading, who before had spent their 
winter evenings in telling stories of goblins and witches 
round the fire. A number of circulating libraries had 
also been started in all parts of the country, a proceeding 
that at first much alarmed the booksellers, who fancied 
that the sale of their wares would be greatly diminished. 
Experience proved, however, that the taste for reading 
having become more general, the sale of books rapidly 
increased. The opening of Sunday-schools also hastened 
the diffusion of knowledge, and indirectly benefited the 
bookseller. 

Lackington's own purchases had now become very 
large. He prides himself upon buying a thousand or 
more copies of a single work, and of having at one time 
no less than ten thousand copies of Dr. Watts's Hymns in 
stock. He astonished his contemporaries by his custom 
of keeping his books quite openly, and informing his 
employees at the beginning of each week how much the 
takings of the previous week amounted to. In the 
year in which he wrote his Memoirs^ 1791, his profits 
amounted to £¥)00, and seemed likely to increase. 
Having several poor relations, he decided, though his 
health was failing, not to retire from business. He main- 
tained his mother, his first wife's parents, three more 
aged people, and four children. About this time he paid 
a visit to his native village in Somersetshire, amusing 
himself on the journey by calling upon some of his 
226 



JAMES LACKINGTON 

former employers in his smart chariot, attended by 
livened servants, and asking, ' Pray, sir, have you got 
any occasion ?' a term then used by journeymen seeking 
work. The bells rang out for his arrival at Wellington, 
and many of the most respectable persons visited him, 
giving as their reason for this condescension the fact that 
Mr. Lackington did not forget himself like so many 
upstarts, nor neglect his poor relations. 

In this blaze of glory the Memoirs come to an end, but 
the numerous editions published during the next few 
years, some of them with alterations and additions, 
enable us to get a glimpse at our hero in his later life. 
It IS to be feared that unexampled prosperity proved too 
much for the little bookseller's good sense," and almost 
threw him off his balance. In a later edition of his 
Memoirs we learn that the second Mrs. Lackington died 
in 1795. Her husband wrote her epitaph, and observed 
that he had been married to two of the best of women 
with the worst of constitutions, but that he hoped Provi- 
dence had another good wife in store for him. He did 
his best to assist Providence, if we may believe a con- 
temporary, by advertising in the Mornin^^ CJiroiucle for 
a wife; and after setting forth his excellent parts, and 
the inimitable graces of his person, his distinguished 
situation, his country-house and his chariot, he gave it 
to be understood that no lady with less than ^20,000 
need have the presumption to answer his advertisenient. 
He obtained a wife, though history does not say whether 
she had the desired fortune. But fate continued to 
smile upon him. His profits increased, and when 
Finsbury Square was built he erected at one corner an 
immense new shop which he called ' The Temple of the 
Muses.' 

227 



JAMES LACKINGTON 

So successful a man was bound to have enemies as well 
as admirers. Scandalous chroniclers have recorded some 
of the antics that Lackington indulged in when his good 
fortune had affected his brain. On his arrival at his 
town-house from Merton, a flag used to be hoisted on 
the roof, which flaunted in the breeze during his stay, 
but was struck on his departure. On one occasion, when 
he was on a visit to Cambridge with the famous chariot, 
an ostler charged sixpence to the townspeople who were 
desirous of seeing the splendid equipage. Lackington, 
hearing of this charge, ordered that the chariot should 
be brought round and exhibited for some hours gratis. 
At one time a project was in agitation of a statue to be 
put up in the newly-built Finsbury Square. Lackington 
off'ered his own figure, and promised that if his fellow- 
citizens would erect a statue to him the whole expense 
should come out of his pocket. This noble offer was 
somewhat curtly refused. A plan for issuing a quantity 
of halfpence with his own image and superscription met 
with no better success. 

These and other eccentricities, together with the 
publication of his autobiography, which was naturally 
regarded as a stupendous puff", marked him out as a prey 
to the caricaturist and lampooner. One of the numerous 
family of Pindar, Peregrine by name, addressed in 1795 
an Ode to the Hero of Finsbury Square, congratu- 
lating him on his third marriage, and on his genius as 
his own biographer. This poem, which was issued by a 
rival bookseller, was accompanied by a clever cartoon 
representing Mr. Lackington in the act of stepping into 
his chariot off" a pile of books, while a crowd of raga- 
muffins watch him with awe and admiration. He carries 
a volume of his Memoirs under his arm, and upon the 
228 



JAMES LACKINGTON 

hammer-cloth of the chariot is his family motto, ' Small 
profits do great things,' while in the background is the 
Temple of the Muses, with the flag flying. In mock- 
heroic stanzas, illustrated by notes, the poet makes cruel 
fun of the hero, his autobiography, his three marriages, 
his temple, his proffered statue, and the rest of his 
vagaries. One verse may be quoted as a specimen of 
Peregrine Pindar's ' satiric vein. ' Behold,' he exclaims — 

' Behold the flag with streamer gay unfurled ! 
Behold the multitude with staring brow ! 
The Hero comes — the Wonder of the World, 
Merton is left, and Moorfields has him now. 
Approach, ye Shopmen, and with bows profound. 
Greet your great Lord with bodies to the ground.' 

Lackington, who had taken a partner named Allen in 
his later years, retired from business altogether in 1798, 
making over his share in the Temple of the Muses to 
his cousin George Lackington. A characteristic letter 
addressed by the retiring partner to the new firm is here 
printed for the first time. It is dated 'Two o'clock, 
February 14, 1799,' and runs as follows : — 

' Gentlemen, — Although you are now in the sole 
possession of a prosperous trade by which you are each 
likely to make a fortune, and in case a Peace should soon 
take place, a large one, and although some of you are 
already possessed of a great deal of property, and the 
rest of you have a very handsome sum to begin with, 
add to this my good opinion of your industry and 
caution, etc., yet on a serious consideration I believe you 
will not blame me for doing all in my power to preserve 
from risk the moderate fortune which by much difficulty 
and industry I am now possessed of. By this time I 
suppose you have easely gest [guessed] that I am going 



JAMES LACKINGTON 

to point out the necessity of my advertising the public 
of the dissohition of the partnership. It is possible 
(though unlikely) that the dissoluters of Europe may 
have the plundering of London (for you will know that 
in London are many traiters to this country). A fire 
may consume your stock, and by some misrepresentation 
or failure in punctillis, you may not be able to recover. 
You, like others, may neglect to insure, servants may 
ruin you, many of you live at a distance ; as others 
marry the shop is likely to be nearly deserted. Your 
own good sense will suggest to you other cases that will 
justify me in taking every precaution, and I hope and 
believe that each of you are so cautious that you would 
(were you in my situation) do the very same as I pro- 
pose to do. Indeed, it would be the highest degree of 
imprudence in any one to risk his all even although the 
chance in his favour was five hundred to one. 

' On the other side you have a copy of the advertise- 
ment. It would perhaps have been enough had I only 
said, J. Lackington informs the public that he is no 
longer a partner in the Bookselling trade carried on in 
the Temple of the Muses. But though I am informed 
that the Gazette charges dear for every line, I could not 
be satisfied with the common laconic style, as I think the 
manner in which I have ch'awn it up may be of great 
service to you. Should you wish to make any alteration 
in the advertisement, be pleased to make it, and return 
it to me that I may form my own judgment upon it. 
I am, gentlemen, Your humble servant, 

'J. Lackington. 

P.S. — If any of you gentlemen will get it inserted in 
the Gazette, and order the Gazette in which it shall be 
230 



JAMES LACKINGTON 

inserted to be sent to my address, I shall be obliged to 
him that will take tliat trouble. But if disagreeable, I 
must get one of my old acquaintance among the trade to 
oblige me, as I have no friend that understands the 
nature of such things but among the trade. I must 
have the receipt for the money paid for the advertisement 
as paid by me. 

2nd P.S. — Perhaps it may not be useless to say that if 
you have any substantial friends that will give me a 
bond of indemnity for twenty thousand pounds, I at 
present think that will do, and prevent my advertisement. 
I sopose you will be able to give me an answer in two or 
three posts.' 

On his retirement Lackington seems to have given 
up his house at Mcrton, for he bought two small estates 
at Alveston, where he built a Methodist chapel, and 
became an amateur preacher. This may create some 
surprise, but the fact is that after his third marriage 
he had become reconverted to Methodism, which change 
of heart he had made known to the world in his 
Confessions^ published in 1803. In his preface to this 
little book, which is very inferior to the Memoirs, he 
formally announces his return to his old faith, and 
recants his former errors, in the hope that his case may 
serve as a warning to others, and ' an alarm to some of 
those who are fallen into that dreadful state of infidelity 
from which, by the great mercy of God, I am happily 
escaped.' He further expresses his abhorrence of those 
parts of his autobiography in which, through the side of 
Methodism, he had even attacked the Church of England, 
and his regret that his late firm had recently published a 
new edition of the work. 

231 



JAMES LACKINGTON 

Adam -like, Lackington attributes his falling away 
from grace to the influence of his second wife, who was 
passionately fond of novel-reading, with which taste she 
so infected her husband that at last he neglected both his 
religion and his business in order to indulge it. By 
degrees he gave up reading his Bible, ceased to attend 
public worship, associated with sceptics, and no longer 
observed the Lord's Day. He imagined that faith had 
no effect upon morals ; but when his own morals became 
so relaxed that he played cards on Sunday, he owns to 
feeling some uneasiness. He took to reading books on 
divinity again, and, having recovered some of his former 
taste for that kind of literature, desired to impart it to 
others, and began the good work upon his third wife. 
He describes her as being in moral conduct the most 
perfect being he had ever seen, but her only motive for 
this superlative excellence was that ' she thought she 
ought to be as good as she could,"* and apart from this 
she had not the slightest knowledge of religion, nor did 
she see any use in going to church. Her husband began 
operations by reading to her Seeker's and Gilpin's dis- 
courses, at first only one every Sunday, then two or three 
in the week, until at last ' Mrs. L.' said that she preferred 
divinity to fiction. 

When Lackington, after many struggles, was com- 
pletely reconverted, he began to feel distressed at the 
ignorant and irreligious state of the poor people in his 
neighbourhood, most of whom could not read, and never 
went to church. He started a Sunday-school in the 
village, and invited a Methodist preacher to come and 
hold open-air meetings. Later, as has been said, he 
built a chapel, and occasionally preached himself, besides 
distributing tracts and visiting the sick. In 1806 he 
232 



JAMES LACKINGTON 

removed to Taunton, where he spent =£'3000 upon another 
chapel, over the door of which was the inscription — 

' This Temple is erected as a monument of God's 
mercy in convincing an Infidel of the important Truths 
of Christianity. Man, consult thy whole existence and 
be safe."* 

A quaint little note addressed to his old firm, and 
dated August 9, 1806, may here be quoted as illustrative 
of Lackington's orthography, and also of his two chief 
interests, his sermons and his banking account : — 

' Gentlemen [it runs], — In a few days I Purpose to 
remove to Taunton, and request you to direct the first 
three papers to me at Mr. John Smith's, Hoisor [hosier], 
North Street, after the first three then to me in Canon 
Street, Taunton. The three copies of Mr. Wesley's 
Sermons please to put by at 5s., as you mentioned ; 
should an appertunity offer of puting them into any 
parcel for Taunton please to send them, otherwise put 
them bye. If you will just set down in figures the 
Ballance which I have in my Banker's hand you will 
further oblige, gentlemen, yours, etc., 

'J. Lackington.' 

Having quarrelled with the Wesleyan preachers at 
Taunton, Lackington removed to Budleigh Salterton, 
where he built and endowed a third chapel, and spent 
the remainder of his life. He died of apoplexy in 1815, 
being then in his seventieth year. A long notice on his 
remarkable career appeared in the Gentlernaii's Magazine^ 
and he also received mention in Nichols's Literary Anec- 
dotes. His Memoirs went through thirteen editions, and 
received the unusual honour of being translated into 
German. For some years longer the Temple of the Muses 



JAMES LACKINGTON 

continued to flourish in Finsbury Square. Knight the 
publisher, in his Shadows of the Old Boolsellers, relates 
that when he was about ten years old (in 1801) his 
father took him, as a great treat, to see this famous 
Temple. Over the principal entrance was the inscription, 
' Cheapest Booksellers in the World.' In the interior 
was an immense circular counter, while a broad staircase 
led up to the ' lounging-rooms "■ and a series of galleries 
round which books were displayed, growing gradually 
cheaper and shabbier in appearance as they neared the 
roof. If there was any chaffering or haggling about the 
cost of a work, the shopman merely pointed to a placard 
on which was printed, ' The Lowest Price is marked on 
every book, and no abatement is made on any article.' 
George Lackington, who succeeded his cousin James, con- 
tinued to sell cheaply for cash, but was more inclined 
towards publishing speculations, and it was he who 
offered five hundred pounds for the autobiography of 
Richard Cumberland. The business was still being 
carried on in Finsbury Square in 1822, but a little later 
it was removed to Piccadilly, and the name of Lackington 
disappeared from the firm. Many of the best-known 
booksellers of the nineteenth-century are said to have 
received their training in the famous house that had 
been founded by the illiterate little West Country shoe- 
maker. 



234 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 



. MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

(1755-1838) 
PART I. GIRLHOOD 

It may be remembered that Robert Louis Stevenson, in 
a letter to Mr. Sidney Colvin dated Christmas, 1880, 
announces his intention of writing a History of the 
Highlands (an interesting catalogue might be compiled 
of the unwritten books of the best authors), and dilates 
upon the vast number of delightful writers with whom he 
shall have to deal in the section devoted to literature — 
Johnson, Boswell, ' Ossian ' Macpherson, Mrs. Grant of 
Laggan, and Scott. Again, in the charming Memoirs of 
a Highland Lady published a few years ago, the heroine 
alludes more than once to ' the celebrated Mrs. Grant of 
Laggan ' ; while references to the same lady occur in 
Lockharfs Life of Scott. Whatever may be the case 
with Scottish readers, it is probable that few Southrons 
could answer off-hand the question, ' Who is Mrs. Grant 
of Laggan .? ' or claim any familiarity with her works. 
Yet in the opening years of this century Mrs. Grant 
was one of the idols of literary society both in London 
and Edinburgh, while her Letters from the Mountains 
achieved a popularity that has only been rivalled by 
the productions of our modern Kailyard School. Her 

237 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

vogue beyond doubt was genuine, and the enthusiasm she 
aroused spontaneous, for she was the pet of no special 
chque, and the critics, both northern and southern, were 
either cold or neglectful. It was the public of the two 
kingdoms that took her to its heart, wrote to assure her 
of its admiration, sent her substantial presents, and 
carried her triumphantly through many editions. 

In the course of time the fickle public forgot the Lady 
of Laggan even more completely than it forgets most of 
its favourites ; and now she only lives in the memories of 
a few lovers of Highland literature, who find a charm like 
that which lingers about a tuft of sun-dried heather in 
her once famous Letters frovi the Mountains. Stevenson, 
as we have seen, describes her as a delightful writer ; but 
even had all the glamour faded out of her work, she 
deserves to be remembered for the good service she 
rendered to her countrymen by singing the praises of 
Highland character and Highland scenery at a time when 
it was the fashion in this country to despise everything 
north of the Tweed, to say nothing of the Tay. In the 
eighteenth century Southrons had been taught by such 
authorities as Burt, Johnson, and Pennant that the High- 
lands were barren deserts, the men frightful savages, and 
the women mere beasts of burden. Burt, writing of the 
scenery, observes : ' There is not much variety in it, but 
gloomy spaces, different rocks, and heather high and low. 
They appear one above the other, the whole of a dismal 
brown, drawing upon a dirty purple, and most of all dis- 
agreeable when the heather is in bloom.' Even Goldsmith 
declared that in Highland scenery ' hills and rocks inter- 
cept every prospect.' Mrs. Grant may perhaps be accused 
of having idealised the character and manners of her 
countrymen, but then she was a lady who looked upon 
238 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

life through rose-coloured glasses, and asked little of her 
surroundings beyond nature and simplicity. It is probable 
that she did more than any other writer except Sir Walter 
to dissipate our national prejudice against the Scots, and 
to open English eyes to the beauty of the ' land of brown 
heath and shaggy wood.*' 

The future chronicler of the little village on the Spey 
had a far more eventful childhood than fell to the lot 
of most of her feminine contemporaries. In a fragment 
of autobiography written by herself in old age, she tells 
us that she was born in 1755, at Glasgow, being the only 
child of Duncan Macvicar, ' a plain, brave, pious soldier,"' 
and of his wife, a Miss Stewart of Invernahayle. In 1757 
Macvicar, who held a connnission in the 77th Foot, sailed 
with his regiment for America, where the Seven Years' 
War was then raging. In 1758 Mrs. Grant and her little 
daughter Anne went out to join the head of the family, 
but on arriving at Charleston found that he was absent 
on the Pittsburg expedition. For some time they drifted 
about, now in Pennsylvania, now in New York, till in 
1760 they accompanied the regiment from Albany to 
Oswego, making the long romantic voyage up the 
Mohawk river in large boats, sometimes sleeping in the 
woods, sometimes in the forts, which formed a chain of 
posts in the then trackless wilderness. On the way, 
Anne, who delighted in the freedom and adventure of 
the life, and cared nothing for the wolves that howled 
from the surrounding hills, was presented to Hendish, 
King of the Mohawks, who gave her a little basket of 
dried berries, and for Avhose sake she liked kings the 
better all her life after. ' We had no books,' she writes 
in later years, ' but the Bible and some military treatises ; 
but I grew familiar with the Old Testament, and a Scotch 

239 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

sergeant brought me Blind Harry's Wallace, which by the 
aid of the said sergeant I conned so diligently that I not 
only understood the broad Scotch, but caught an admira- 
tion for heroism, and an enthusiasm for Scotland that 
has ever since been like a principle of life.'' A copy of 
Milton was studied on the return journey, a year later, 
and not only became one of the principal factors in the 
child's education, but was also the means of obtaining 
for her the friendship of one of the most distinguished 
American women of that period, Madame Schuyler, who 
lived in Albany, where Captain Macvicar was stationed 
for the next three or four years with a detachment of his 
regiment. 

Colonel and Madame Schuyler had won well-deserved 
renown for the manner in which they dispensed hospi- 
tality to respectable strangers, protected the new settlers, 
helped to alleviate the hardships suffered by the British 
troops, and acted as the guardian angels of the poor 
Indians of the district. ' Some time after our arrival at 
Albany,'' continues the autobiography, ' I accompanied 
my parents to visit Madame Schuyler, whom I regarded 
as the Minerva of my imagination. The conversation 
fell upon dreams and forewarnings. I rarely spoke till 
spoken to at any time, but of a sudden the spirit moved 
me to say that bad angels sometimes whispered dreams 
to the soul. When asked for my authority, I surprised 
every one, but myself most of all, by a long quotation 
from Eve's fatal dream ^ (in Paradise Lost) which infused 
into her mind the ambition that led to guilt. After this 
happy quotation I became a great favourite with Madame 

^ ' When nature rests, 
Oft in her absence mimic fancy wakes 
To imitate her,' etc. 

240 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

Schuyler, who never failed to tell any one who had read 
Milton the origin of her partiality. While we remained 
in America I enjoyed much of Madame Schuyler's society, 
and after my father removed from Alhany I spent two 
winters with her in that city. Indeed, if my parents 
would have parted with me, she would have kept me 
entirely with herself : whatever culture my mind received 
I owe to her."' 

"When peace was concluded the British Government 
granted allotments of land to retired officers, two thou- 
sand acres to each. Captain Macvicar not only took up 
his own allotment, hut bought at a low price the rights 
of other officers who were returning to England, and 
soon became the owner of a large amount of property in 
New Vermont, where he intended to settle down. His 
health giving way, however, he decided to return to his 
native land, leaving his affairs in charge of a friend. 
This estate, which he regarded as a comfortable provision 
for his family, was ' swallowed up," to use his daughter's 
expression, in the American Rebellion ; in other words, 
it was seized during those troubled times by disbanded 
soldiers and lawless characters who, when peace was 
restored, had the nine points of the law in tlieir favour, 
and refused to accede to the federation of the other 
states, if their rights were called in question. The 
Macvicars an-ived at Glasgow in May, 1768, after en- 
countering one continued storm in a small ill-found 
vessel. Anne, then in her fourteenth year, was at first 
sought after as something curious and anomalous, possess- 
ing none of the fashionable feminine accomplishments, yet 
unusually familiar with books and all that regarded the 
face of nature. In spite of her unlikeness to other girls 
of her age, she made one or two friendships at this period 
Q 241 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

which neither time nor absence interrupted, and which 
only death had power to break. 

Captain Macvicar had a share in a commercial business, 
but in 1773 he was offered the post of barrack-master 
of Fort Augustus, and could not resist the temptation of 
a military employment. Anne, then not quite eighteen, 
by no means disliked the idea of a life in the solitary 
Highland station, though it was not without a wrench 
that she parted from her Glasgow friends. The famous 
Letters from the Mountains begin abruptly with an ac- 
count of the leisurely journey to Fort Augustus by way 
of Inveraray, Oban, and Fort William. There is a touch 
of youthful pedantry in her frequent allusions to the 
Odyssey which she carries with her in the chaise, and in 
her complaint, ' I can always get people to laugh with 
me ; but the difficult thing is to get one " soft, modest, 
melancholy female fair " that will be grave with me, and 
enter into my serious and sober reflections.' Again, 
while riding over the lonely moors she is supported by 
a benevolent project for the reformation of certain female 
friends. ' I mean,' she writes, ' such of them as say or do 
no great harm, but who bewilder their brains and waste 
their time among endless mazes of ribbon and lace 
and tattle and tales. I am convinced some solitary 
pilgrimages over the brown moors might wean them 
from this trifling, and teach them to think, and then 
" on reason build resolve," which might be found a 
column of true dignity, even in women. The general 
result of my meditations was that we should be oftener 
alone.' 

There is many a romantic description of the beauties 
of Loch Lomond, Glen Falloch, and Glcncoe which no 
doubt charmed the equally romantic friend to whom they 

9.n 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

were addressed, but which would certainly be skipped by 
the modern reader. A more original note is struck in a 
letter from Oban, dated May 3, 1773, the note of admira- 
tion for the Highland character which set the key to so 
much of Mrs. Grant's published work. ' Do you know,"" 
she remarks, 'the Highlanders resemble the French in 
being poor with a better grace than other people. If 
they want certain luxuries or conveniences they do not 
look embarrassed and make you feel awkward by petty 
apologies, which you don't know how to answer; they 
rather dismiss any sentiment of that kind by a playful 
raillery for which they have a talent. People hereabouts, 
when they have good ancestry, education, and manners, 
are so supported by the consciousness of those advan- 
tages, that they seem not the least disconcerted by the 
deficiencies of fortune. Is it not a blessed thing that 
there is a place where poverty is respectable and deprived 
of its sting ? "■ 

At Oban the travellers stayed for some time at the 
house of an elderly gentleman, alluded to as ' The Col- 
lector, "* with whom Anne declares that she has fallen 
deeply, hopelessly in love, though he is seventy and has 
been thrice married. But then he is so lively, well bred, 
and intelligent. ' If his are the manners of the old court, 
I wish I had lived a little earlier. . , . He delights to 
talk of his " last friendj" who I believe was an amiable 
woman, and lived happily with him for the short time 
their union lasted, though the difference of age amounted 
to little less than fifty years!" It was here that Anne 
had her first experience of a Highland service, beino- 
taken by her friends to church at Kilmore, some four 
miles off. * It is by no means a Jewish Sabbath that is 
kept here," she observes. ' It would be bold to call it 

243 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

strictly a Christian one ; be that as it may, it is a vei-y 
cheerful one. We set out on horseback in a shower of 
snow which people here mind no more than hair-powder. 
. . . This was an odd old church, almost ruinous, but 
when the preacher came in he roused all my attention. 
I never beheld a countenance so keenly expressive, nor 
such dark piercing eyes. When I began to look about, 
the dresses and countenances of the people presented new 
matter of speculation. This is certainly a fine country 
to grow old in ; I could not spare a look to the young 
people, so much was I engrossed in contemplating their 
grandmothers. They preserve the form of dress worn 
some hundred years ago. Stately, erect, and self-satisfied, 
without a trace of the languor or coldness of age, they 
march up the area with gaudy-coloured plaids fastened 
about their breasts with a silver brooch like the full moon 
in size and shape. They have a peculiar lively blue eye, 
and a fair fresh complexion. Round their heads is tied 
a plain kerchief, and on each cheek is a silver lock which 
is always cherished, and considered as a kind of decora- 
tion. . . . 

' I was trying to account for the expression in the 
countenance of those cheerful ancients, while the pastor 
was holding forth in the native tongue. Now here is the 
result : — People who are for ever consecrating the memory 
of the departed, and hold the virtues, nay, the faults of 
their ancestors in such blind veneration, see much to love 
and revere in their parents that others never think of. 
The old people, treated with unvaried tenderness and 
veneration, feel no diminution of their consequence, no 
chill in their affections. . . . Observe, moreover, that 
they serve for song-books and circulating libraries, so 
faithfully do they preserve, and so accurately detail, the 
244 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

tales of the times of old and the song of the bards. 
All this makes them the delight of the very young in 
the happy period of wonder and simplicity, and finding 
themselves so prevents their being peevish or querulous. 
... I was waked out of a pleasing reverie by the beadle 
coming to ask if I had any Gaelic, because if I had not 
there was to be an English discourse. Judge of my im- 
portance in having a sermon preached for my very self. 
... A new and very amusing scene opened when service 
was over. We were ushered into a kind of public-house 
where it seems all the genteel part of the congregation 
usually meet, converse, and take refreshments while their 
horses are preparing. The Kirk here is literally accounted 
a public place, and frequented from very different motives. 
People not shiffularli/ pious cross ferries and ride great 
distances in bad weather, not solely, I fear, to hear the 
glad tidings in church, but to meet friends in this good- 
humoured kindly way, after sermon, who can tell them 
all about their eighteenth cousins in India and America.' 
The cynosure of the assembly was an old major, with 
tartan coat, large silver buttons worn in Montrose's wars 
by his grandfather, and abundant silver locks adorning a 
countenance the picture of health and benignity. With 
him were his three thin upright sisters and his nine 
cousins, who amidst all their oddity were mountain 
gentlewomen. There was little scandal talked ; for the 
dead being the principal subject of conversation, the 
living escaped calumny. ' I am resolved for my part,' 
declares Anne, 'to die in the Highlands, that I may 
avoid the sudden oblivion which swallows up the departed 
among polished people who disguise selfishness under the 
pretence of not being able to endure to have their fine 
feelings disturbed with the mention of the dead.' 

245 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

Like most young women of marked character who have 
early learned to think for themselves, Anne found it 
difficult to adapt herself to ordinary female society, or 
to make allowance for the follies and frivolities of girls 
of a different calibre from herself. In one of the letters 
written during her stay at Oban in a family which, with 
the exception of its head, was not particularly congenial 
to her, she writes : — 

' I cannot fatigue myself or you with the description 
of this day ; you will find it in Thomson, " Deceitful, 
vain, and void passes the day." Why should I speak 
peevishly of good-humoured people who show a wish to 
please me ? Why am I not pleased with trifles when the 
best of us are doomed to pass a great part of our lives 
in a manner which our own reflections must call trifling ? 
But then I should like to trifle my own way. I could 
play half a day with sweet little Anne, or even with a 
sportive kitten or puppy. I could gather shells and sea- 
weed on the shore, or venture my neck for nests that I 
would not plunder after finding them ; nay, I could talk 
nonsense as we used to do, and laugh heartily at vagaries 
of our own contriving ; but their nonsense I can't for my 
life relish ; they think it wit, and I can't accredit it as 
such. Then they think cunning wisdom, and mistake 
simplicity for folly. Do not think that I indulge myself 
in the conceit of not caring for anybody unless they have 
the taste for reading which great leisure and solitude in 
a manner forced upon me, but I would have people love 
truth and nature, I would have them look a little into 
the great book which their Maker has left open to every- 
body,' 

With her host, the Collector, Anne had already struck 
up a warm friendship. He lent her books, and encouraged 
246 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

her to write down her reflections and impressions on the 
subjects of her reading. But on the whole she was not 
sorry to depart on his Majesty's wherry for Fort WiUiam, 
where the party arrived about May the 12th. The 
wherry had a very stormy passage, and the captain was 
forced to put in for shelter opposite Port Appin, the 
passengers taking refuge in the house of an unknown lady. 
' We were received,' says Anne, ' with a kind of stately 
civility by a tall, thin person, a widow — pale, wan, and 
woe-begone. She never asked who we were until a good 
fire and most comfortable tea-drinking put us in humour 
to make replies. She then asked my mother if we were 
connected with the country. Now we had just left my 
father's country, and entered my mother's. She told the 
good lady her whole genealogy, by no means omitting 
the Invernahayle family, on which the old lady rose with 
great solemnity, crying, ' All the water in the sea cannot 
wash your blood from mine,' and a tender embrace was 
followed by a long dissertation on the Invernahayle 
family.' 

Fort William, where another stay was made, found no 
favour in the girl's critical eyes. ' It is,' she declared, ' a 
seaport without being animated ; it is a village without 
the air of peace and simplicity ; it is military without 
being gay and bold-looking ; it is country without being 
rural ; it is Highland without being picturesque and 
romantic; it has plains without verdure, hills without 
woods, mountains without majesty, and a sky without 
a sun.' Even the river she describes as looking gloomy 
and stupid, while the far-famed Ben Nevis is a great 
clumsy mountain, which, as far as a mountain can re- 
semble a man, resembles the person Smollett has marked 
out by the name of Captain Gawky. At this time the 

Ml 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

young traveller is full of the tragedy of Glencoe, and 
relates the familiar story in picturesque and impassioned 
style. An anecdote of another dismal period is told 
in the same letter, and will probably be new to most 
readers. 

'There was an English major," so it runs, 'who in the 
absence of the governor commanded the garrison of 
Fort William in the year 1746. At that time, after 
much previous severity, a free pardon was offered to all 
the lower class who would deliver up their arms ; those 
found with weapons in their possession had no mercy to 
expect. After supper one night, when the commandant 
and his officers were enjoying their bowl in this house, 
the sergeant of the guard came in, and said there were 
three men brought in with their arms, — what should be 
done with them ? " What but hang them .? " said the 
major, impatient of disturbance. Now this was owing 
to the sergeanfs inaccuracy of expression. The poor 
men, in fact, were coming in wdth their arms to deliver 
them up, and meeting one of the outposts by the way, 
accompanied them to the garrison. When the giant 
awoke from his wine, the first thing he did Avas to look 
out of the window, and the first object he saw was the 
bodies of these unhappy men hung over a mill opposite. 
He was filled with horror, not recollecting his last nighfs 
order. When it was explained to him that the poor 
creatures came to receive the proffered mercy, the intelli- 
gence threw him into a deep and lasting melancholy. My 
father, though of all Whigs the bluest, speaks with horror 
of this transaction, and says he saw a very pretty young 
widow come to that mill the following winter, whose 
father, brother, and husband had been the sufferers.' 
It was in those days a long and fatiguing j ourney on 
248 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

horseback over the brown moors to Fort Augustus. The 
letters give a vivid description of Glenmore, the great 
valley that opens across Scotland from sea to sea, and of 
its fast-following lakes linked by filial streams, which, 
as the writer says, ' invite art to the aid of nature in 
forming a canal that should divide Scotland ; but that 
will be the business of a wiser and a richer century.' 
Just thirty years later, in 1803, the Caledonian Canal 
was begun, but it was not completed until 1847. On 
passing the ruins of Achnacarry, the home of the 
Camerons, Anne relates with pride how ' when LochieFs 
estate was forfeited, the tenants paid the usual rent to 
the Crown, and also paid voluntarily a rent to support 
Lochiers family abroad. When the demesne was taken 
by some friends for their behoof, the tenants stocked it 
with cattle of all kinds. This too was pure benevolence ; 
and to this my grandfather, one of that faithful band, 
amply contributed." 

For General Wade's famous military roads our heroine 
had no great appreciation, and refused to take it for 
granted that they w^ould civilise the people as speedily 
and effectually as was expected. ' The people,' she asserts, 
' were very civil when they were well treated ; they were 
so agile and familiar with their own bye-paths, and so 
accustomed to go 

'^'^Over moor^ over mire, 
Thoro' bush and tlioro' briar," 

that I am not clear they will always forsake their old 
short cuts for the pleasure of going ten miles round on 
hard gravel. These roads will afford access to strangers 
who dislike and despise, because they do not understand 

249 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

them ; and to luxuries they cannot afford to pay for, and 
would be happier without. Early accustomed to savage 
life, I have not the hoiTor at it that wiser people have. 
As far as regards this world, I am not sure how much 
my old Mohawk friends have to gain by being civilised, 
nor are my expectations very sanguine of the felicity 
which more knowledge of good and evil will produce 
here.' 

Fort Augustus is described as a miniature New York 
as to situation, the fort itself being the prettiest little 
thing imaginable. ' You would suppose some old veteran 
had built himself a house with a ditch and drawbridge 
to remind him of his past exploits." The society was 
almost exclusively military, and naturally limited in its 
ideas and conversation. ' Nobody will care for me,"* 
writes Anne, luxuriating after youthful fashion in the 
prospect of undeserved loneliness and neglect, 'because 
nobody will understand me. I cannot blame them. I 
am too rustic, too simple at least, for people of the world, 
with whom manner is everything ; and though myself 
uneducated, I painfully feel that I have too much refine- 
ment, too much delicacy, for uninformed people Avith 
whom I have no point of union but simplicity. . . . Our 
garrisonians are diverting originals, but their restlessness 
and discontent provoke me. Military people always 
speak with pleasure of the place where they have been, 
or are going, but are never satisfied Avhere they are. 
They are generally well bred and entertaining, but often 
hard and heartless at bottom, and always arbitrary in 
their families when they have them. They rail constantly 
at this place, yet perhaps they will never be so happy 
when they leave it. I would rather be a beetle under 
a stone than a dragon-fly blown with every blast." 
250 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

Quite an ordeal was the first visit to the commandant's 
wife, for the lady was London-bred, had a great fortune, 
and was what the men called very smart. ' She was a 
terrification to me,' writes the stranger. ' I put on my 
lilac, as you may well believe, but neither that nor my new 
bonnet inspired me with confidence. I was much worse 
when I went to the Governor's. The young lady, from 
whom I would fain have looked for a little companion- 
ship, interested but overawed me. She was polite, and 
that is all one expects at first ; but I am sure she could 
not like me if she wished it — I was so awkward, and so 
sensible of being awkward, and so afraid of being laughed 
at. I envy those people whose spirits are kept up by 
the hope of admiration ; mine are always kept down by 
the fear of ridicule.' 

The girl found her chief resources in her books, her 
rambles over the moors, and her correspondence with her 
friends. To the Collector she writes long letters contain- 
ing critical analyses of the books that he has lent her, 
mostly biographies of celebrated men, such as Cromwell, 
Charles xii., and Peter the Great. On June 20, 1773, 
however, she tells him that her attention has been com- 
pletely engrossed by a 'new' novel called The Vicar of 
Waliefield,'^ \f\i\ch. he must certainly read. 'Goldsmith,' 
she observes, ' puts me in mind of Shakespeare ; his 
narrative is improbable and absurd in many instances, 
yet all his characters do and say so exactly what might 
be supposed of them, if so circumstanced, that you 
willingly resign your mind to the sway of this pleasing 
enchanter, laugh heartily at improbable incidents, and 
weep bitterly for impossible distresses. . . 'Tis a thou- 
sand pities that Goldsmith had not patience or art to 
1 Published in 1766. 

251 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

conclude suitably a story so happily conducted; but the 
closing scenes rush on so precipitately, are managed with 
so little skill, and wound up in such a hurried and really 
bungling manner, that you seem hastily awakened from 
an affecting dream. Then miseries are heaped on the 
poor Vicar with such barbarous profusion, that the 
imagination, weary of such cruel tyranny, ends it by 
breaking the illusion.'' 

Not a bad piece of criticism for a self-educated girl 
of eighteen ! The Collector was not unnaturally im- 
pressed, and inquired the source whence so much pre- 
mature information and reflection had been derived. In 
reply, Anne gives a little sketch of Madame Schuyler ; 
and declares that whatever culture her mind had received 
she owed to this friend of her childhood, whose house 
was an academy for morals, for manners, and for solid 
knowledge. ' Many particulars relative to this excellent 
person"'s life and manners,' she remarks, ' would be well 
worth preserving; and if I outlive her, I think I will, 
some time or other, endeavour to please myself at least 
by preserving a memoir of a life so valuable and im- 
portant." This project, conceived in early girlhood, was 
carried out thirty years later, when in her Memoirs of an 
American Lady the writer succeeded in producing a iDook 
that pleased the public on both sides of the Atlantic. 

In June, 1774, Anne journeyed with a friend to 
Inverness, intending to stay only a few days, but between 
kindness and contrary winds the visitors were detained 
three weeks. The town at that time had, according to 
our chronicler, 'a very genteel society, and one meets 
with many well-bred, agreeable people. They have 
assemblies every fortnight, gayer than the Glasgow ones, 
which may be accounted for by their being attended by 
252 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

the neighbouring gentry, who are numerous and polite. 
Nothing took my fancy so much as the ladies. They are 
really showy, handsome women, excellent dancers, and 
have the best complexions I ever saw. Indeed, you can 
seldom meet with a young lady who does not remind 
you of the beauties in old romances.'' Another visit to 
some cousins at Perth was not productive of unmixed 
pleasure ; and there is a Jane-Austen-like touch about 
the complaint that the hostesses were ' too civil to let 
us alone, too desirous of entertaining to hold their 
tongues a moment, too observant to let us look serious 
without asking why we were so dull, or out of the 
window without taxing us with being wearied of them. 
In short, we did not get our elbows on the tea-table while 
we stayed. Then we had continual invitations from 
agreeable people in the town, which we accepted the 
readier as we were not quite the thing at home, and that 
was misprision of treason."" 

The five or six years spent at Fort Augustus passed 
peacefully, if somewhat monotonously, for the barrack- 
master''s daughter. The life and the society of the place 
are summed up neatly enough in a letter dated March, 
1777. 'You have no idea how townified folks are in 
these little garrisons, and how these small circles ape the 
manners of the great world they have reluctantly left 
behind them. We too have our visits and our scandals 
brought from thirty miles distant. When any one marries, 
we all sit in judgment, and are sure to find some fault 
with either party, as if it were our own cousin ; and 
when any one dies within twenty miles, we are all very 
busy sounding their praises, and contrive to rake a good 
many virtues from among their ashes that we never gave 
them credit for till they were out of the reach of envy. 

253 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

When Madame La Commandante receives any new article 
of dress, we all fly to admire it, and then hurry away 
to wash gauzes, or in some other imperfect manner to 
contrive a humble imitation of it. Believe that our 
antiquated beaux and belles do everything in the country 
that yours do in the town, only with more languor and 
ill humour. When they walk 'tis on the hard gravel 
road to get an appetite ; when they read 'tis some 
periodical matter, to doze away time till the card-party 
begins, . . . They are ever pining for want of company 
they could ill afford to keep, and public places which it 
would ruin them to frequent. They strive to exalt our 
idea of their former consequence by regretting that there 
are no noblemen's seats at a visiting distance, and that 
tumblers and rope-dancers never come this way.' 



PART II. MARRIAGE 

In May, 1779, Anne Macvicar was married to a member 
of the numerous Grant clan, a young clergyman who 
had formerly been chaplain to the garrison, but who 
for the past three years had ministered to the spiritual 
needs of the parish of Laggan, a remote and solitary 
village on the spurs of the Grampians between Kingussie 
and Fort William. Even in these days it lies outside 
the beaten track of tourists, since no railway has yet 
invaded those mountain fastnesses. In a letter to a 
friend written a couple of months after the marriage, 
Mrs. Grant explains that the man for whom she has 
made 'the greatest of all sacrifices' is an old acquaint- 
ance of her correspondent's, and continues : — 

'After staying two months at the Fort, and wandering 
254 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

many days through our old delightful haunts, we have at 
length taken up our residence in the pastor's cottage, which 
is literally pastoral. Here we have since continued, not 
enjoying the ideal felicity of romances, but that rational 
and obtainable degree of happiness which is derived 
from a sincere mutual esteem, health, tranquillity, and a 
humble, grateful consciousness of being placed in a situa- 
tion equally remote from the cares of poverty and the 
snares of wealth. You know of old my notions of 
matrimony, and how meanly I thought of the usual state 
of happiness enjoyed by those who enter into willing 
subjection. This has proved an advantage to me, as 
I had no sanguine expectations to be disappointed, and 
find more of the attention and complacency of a lover 
in the husband than I expected. We were indeed mis- 
taken in the character of our friend ; he has neither the 
indifference nor the tranquillity we gave him credit for. 
Wrapped up in his natural reserve, he baffled our penetra- 
tion. Would you think it ? He is generous, impetuous, 
and acute in all his feelings. His delicacy is extreme, 
and he has as nice and jealous a sense of honour as any 
Spaniard.' 

The life of a Highland village was evidently far more 
to Mrs. Grant's taste than that of town or garrison. In 
the Letters from the Mountains there is not a single 
word of complaint of the loneliness, the hardships, or 
the inconveniences of such an existence. She nearly 
always writes of Laggan in sunshine, with the flowers 
blooming and the stream singing over the stones. In 
the autobiographical fragment she explains that ' Mr. 
Grant having been placed in the parish of Laggan three 
years before, his popularity was secured by his manners 
and conduct ; mine was of more difficult attainment, 

255 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

because I was not a native of the country, and High 
landers dishke the intrusion of a stranger. However, I 
had both pride and pleasure in overcoming difficulties. 
Thus, by adopting their customs, studying the Gaelic 
language, and, above all, not wondering at anything local 
or peculiar, I acquired that share of the goodwill of my 
new connections, and the regard of the poor, without 
which, even with the fond affection of a fellow mind, such 
a residence would scarcely have been supportable. ... I 
acquired a taste for farming, led a life of fervid activity, 
and had a large family of children, all promising, and 
the greater number of them beautiful." 

It is evident that Mrs. Grant took a pride in her 
multifarious duties, and fully returned the affection of 
the people. Her husband held a farm on very easy 
terms from the Duke of Gordon, which supported a 
dozen cows and a couple of hundred sheep ; while there 
was a range of summer pasture on the mountains for the 
young stock. ' This farm," she writes, ' supplies us with 
everything absolutely necessary ; even the wool and flax 
that our handmaidens manufacture to clothe the chil- 
dren are our own growth. I am very fond of the lower 
class of the people ; they have sentiment, serious habits, 
and a kind of natural courtesy ; in short, they are not 
moh. . . . There is a plentiful lack of wealth and 
an abundant scarcity of knowledge ; but our common 
people have not often low, sordid notions, cant phrase- 
ology, nor the callous hardness that marks that class 
of mind in whatever situation. Our people, though 
they lose their native character when they learn lan- 
guages, or mingle with the canaille of other countries, 
retain here a good deal of the Fingalian liberality and 
courtesy, of that tenderness of sentiment, that elevated 
256 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

generosity that casts a lustre over the brown deserts of 
Morven.' 

The Grant children, twelve in number, all learned to 
lisp Gaelic in their infancy, and their mother often dwelt 
upon the pleasure that her acquaintance with that 
original and emphatic language had afforded her. ' I am 
determined,' she says, ' that my children shall drink from 
the pure wells of Celtic undefiled. They shall taste the 
animated and energetic conversation of the natives, and 
an early acquaintance with the poetry of nature shall 
guard them against false taste or affectation. I never 
desire to hear an English word out of their mouths till 
they are four or five years old. How I should delight 
in grafting elegant sentiments and just notions on simple 
manners and primitive ideas. That is just the Forte- 
piano character that we always wish for and seldom 
meet."* 

Mrs. Grant soon became an adept at farming, an 
occupation which in the Highlands was left chiefly to 
the female members of a family. ' You Londoners,'' she 
says in one letter, 'have no idea of the complicated 
nature of Highland farming, nor of the odd customs 
that prevail here. Formerly, from the wild and warlike 
nature of the men, they thought no rural employments 
compatible with their dignity. Fighting, hunting, loung- 
ing in the sun, music and poetry, were their occupations. 
This naturally extended the women's province both of 
management and labour, the care of the cattle being 
peculiarly their own.' This custom roused indignation 
in the breasts of the few English travellers who pene- 
trated into the remoter Highlands. Pennant declares 
that the women trudged to the fields in droves, like 
beasts of burden, and were so loaded with harvest labours 
K 257 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

that it was small wonder they became withered and 
wrinkled hags at an age when the more fortunate of 
their sex were still in their prime. Happily for them- 
selves, the Highland matrons saw no cause for self-pity 
in their hard-working lives. The Lady of Laggan 
certainly regarded the matter from an optimistic point 
of view. 'Though the men are now civilised to what 
they were,' she observes, ' yet the custom of leaving the 
weight of all cares on the more helpless sex still continues, 
and has produced this one good effect, that they are from 
this habit less helpless and dependent. The men think 
they preserve dignity by this mode of management ; 
the women find a degree of power and consequence that 
they would not exchange for inglorious ease."* 

In the summer the cattle, most of the farm-servants, 
and some of the children were sent up to the mountain 
pastures, at which time the commissariat required most 
careful organisation, the lines of communication being 
very long, though fortunately there was no enemy to 
harass them. In one of her letters Mrs. Grant attempts 
to give an outline of her occupations during a typical 
Monday in June. ' I mention Monday," she says, ' because 
it is the day on which all dwellers in the glens come 
down for supplies. Item, at four o"'clock Donald arrives 
with a horse loaded with butter, cheese, and milk. The 
former I must weigh instantly. He only asks an additional 
blanket for the children, a covering for himself, two milk- 
tubs, a cog, two stone of meal, a quart of salt, and two 
pounds of flax for the spinners. He brings the intelli- 
gence that the old sow has become the joyful mother of a 
dozen pigs, and requests something to feed her with. All 
this must be ready in an hour, before the conclusion of 
which comes young Ronald from the high hills where our 
258 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

sheep and horses are all summer, and desires meat, salt, 
and women with shears to clip the lambs. He informs 
me that the black mare has a foal, but is very low, and I 
must send some one to bring her to the meadows before 
he departs. Then the tenants who do us services come ; 
they are going to stay two days in the oak-wood cutting 
timber for our new byre, and must have a provision of 
bread, cheese, and ale. Then I have Caro''s breakfast to 
get, Janet's hank to reel, Kate's lesson to hear, and her 
sampler to rectify, and all must be over by eleven o'clock. 
Meanwhile his reverence, calm and regardless of all this 
bustle, wonders what detains me, urging me out to walk, 
while the soaring larks and smiling meadows second the 
invitation. . . . Now I will not plague you with a detail 
of the whole day. Yet spare your pity ; for this day is 
succeeded by an evening so sweetly serene, our walk by 
the river is so calmly pleasing, our conversation in the 
long-wished-for hour of rest so interesting, and then our 
children ! — say you wish me more leisure, but do not 
pity me.' 

The picture is idyllic enough, but the modern reader 
feels inclined to ask why ' his reverence' should not have 
lent a helping hand with the affairs of his farm instead of 
wondering what all the bustle was about. But life was 
not all work at Laggan, though one marvels how the 
mistress of the house found time for anything beyond her 
domestic duties, which included the bearing and rearing 
of twelve children. There are visits to the numerous 
Grant relations, and an occasional journey to Fort 
George, where Captain Macvicar had now settled, and 
where the people were ' incredibly polished, powdered, 
townified and Englified, the ladies being as great adepts 
in the modish chitchat and the modish games as any 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

of their sisters in Grosvenor Square/ Many of the 
' genteeler ' class, retired officers, old Indian civil servants, 
and the like, lived in the neighbourhood of Laggan, 
whither, in spite of its remoteness and obscurity, Mrs. 
Grant declared that her sworn foe, the to7i, pursued, over- 
took, and surrounded her. 

The rustic gaieties of the people she could always enter 
into and enjoy. In one letter there is a detailed account 
of the wedding of two trusty retainers, the bride having 
served the family eight years, and the bridegroom seven. 
Four fat sheep and abundance of poultry were slain for 
the supper and the following breakfast, which latter was 
served in Chinese fashion to the superior class. ' At the 
feast above one hundred persons assisted, the music and 
dancing being superior to anything you can imagine. 
Mr. Grant took a fancy to be very wise and serious, and 
reproved our host for killing so many sheep and collect- 
ing so many people, and wondered at me for being 
pleased. I never saw him so ungracious before, but he 
was not well. Every one was quiet, orderly, and happy 
in the extreme. I considered it was hard to grudge this 
one day of glorious felicity to those who, though doomed 
to struggle through a life of hardship and penury, have 
all the love of society, the taste for conviviality, and even 
the sentiment that animates social intercourse, and con- 
stitutes the most enviable part of enjoyment in higher 
circles. It would be cruel to deprive such of the single 
opportunity then- life affords of being splendidly hospit- 
able, and seeing all those to whom nature allied them 
rejoice together at a table of their own providing; and of 
seeing that table graced by such of their superiors as they 
have been used to regard with a mixed sentiment of love 
and veneration. This scene is such as cannot take place 
260 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

but in these regions ; here only you may condescend 
without degradation, for here only is the bond between 
the superior and inferior classes a kindly one. I cannot 
exactly say where the fault lies ; but cold disdain on the 
one side, and a gloomy and rancorous envy on the other, 
fix an icy barrier between the classes with you.' 

We make acquaintance with several of the Laggan 
notabilities, chief among these being a venerable sibyl 
who knits garters, sings her native airs, and bids fair to 
rival Old Parr. ' In her,' says Mrs. Grant, ' I have all 
the pleasure of an old woman's conversation without the 
plague of gossiping; for if she has any scandal. King 
William is the subject of it. She is full of anecdote, but 
scorns to talk of anything that happened within the last 
thirty years. Madame de Maintenon is the heroine of 
her imagination ; she talks of her as if she were still living, 
and constantly quotes the ivory wheel with which she 
spun Lewis into subjection to our girls ; for she considers 
spinning one of the cardinal virtues, and is at this hour 
spinning fine wool on the distaff, of which she proposes 
making garters for the Marquis [of Huntley].' 

The humours and superstitions of the country-side 
were regarded with a kindly eye by the pastoress of 
Laggan, who considered even the darkest superstition 
infinitely preferable to the cynicism and scepticism 
imported from France. It is in an appreciative spirit 
that she records an anecdote related to her by one 
of her dairymaids, who was a perfect treasury of local 
legend. 

' Yesterday fortnight,' so runs the tale in the maid's 

own words, ' the Minister of M in Athol, you know — 

well, his dairymaid went into the byre and put out all the 
cows but one, who lay down and would not move. " Get 

261 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

up," says the maid. " I won't get up," says the cow. " But 
you shall," says the girl, a little startled. " Go to your 
master and bid him come here," says the cow. So the 
girl went, and her master came into the byre. " Get up," 
said he to the cow, " No, I won't," said she ; " I want to 
speak to you." " Say on," said the Master, " since you 
are permitted." The cow began : " Expect a summer of 
famine, a harvest of blood, and a winter of tears." Then 
the cow got up and went about her business.' This fine 
story, comments the mistress, gains ample credit, and it 
would be thought impiety to doubt it. 

Books and news travelled but slowly into those 
mountain regions, but both were eagerly appreciated 
when at last they arrived. In the autumn of 1788 we 
hear that the bard of bards, James Macpherson, ' who 
has reached the mouldy harp of Ossian from the withered 
oak of Selma, is now moving like a meteor over his 
native hills. . . . This bard is as great a favourite of 
fortune as of fame, and has got more by the old harp of 
Ossian than most of his predecessors could draw out of 
the silver strings of Apollo's. He has bought three small 
estates in this country, given a ball to the ladies, and 
now keeps a hall of hospitality at Belleville, his newly 
purchased seat [near Kingussie].' Mrs. Grant was to 
the last a firm believer in the genuineness of 'Ossian"* 
Macpherson's finds, and not all the incredulity of all the 
Edinburgh Reviewers could shake her faith. 

The Sorroxos of Wcrther^ read in 1789, greatly excited 
the dwellers in the quiet parsonage. ' I execrate the 
plan,' writes our heroine, ' detest the example, reprobate 
the reasoning, shudder at the catastrophe, and am most 
perniciously charmed with that vivid colouring, that 

1 Published in 1774. 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

fervid glow of sentiment, that energy of thought, and 
that simple unadorned pathos which, without a pomp of 
sounds, penetrates and melts the very soul/ Mary Woll- 
stonecraffs Rights of Womcn^ shocked the Lagganites 
without charming them, Mrs. Grant expresses her dis- 
belief in the desirability of creating hotbeds for feminine 
genius, and candidly admits that ' innovation disconcerts 
us and new light blinds us ; we detest the Rights of Man 
and abominate those of Woman."* Perhaps her disap- 
proval of female culture was partly due to the theory, 
which she attributes variously to Swift and Bolingbroke, 
that superior powers of intellect are seldom joined to 
amiable qualities in a woman without a balance of bad 
health to set to the opposite side of the account. 

A visit to Glasgow in 1797, the first probably since 
she had left it in 1773, surprised Mrs. Grant by the 
luxuries she beheld, more especially those of the intellect 
— lectures, circulating libraries, and the like, A late 
Professor had founded a Chemistry lecture that was 
expected prodigiously to exalt and illuminate the citizens, 
both male and female. ' It might be a very harmless 
lounge,"* comments the lady from the mountains, ' for the 
female auditory, if the idea of being greatly the wiser for 
hearing a man talk an hour about carbon and chemistry 
would not tend to conceit and affectation. The having 
an additional place of public resort, too, encourages that 
insatiable love of change, that restlessness, which is, I 
think, the great and growing evil of the age, I always 
thought a moderate knowledge of geography and history 
a very desirable acquisition for a woman, because it 
qualifies her for mingling in solid and rational conversa- 
tion, and makes her more a companion for her husband 
^ Published in 1792. 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

or brother. The more pleasing and attainable branches 
of belles lettres lie within her own province — that of the 
imagination and the heart. What business women have 
with any science but that which serves to improve and 
adorn conversation I cannot comprehend. For my part, 
I cannot conceive a woman devoting her whole time and 
faculties to the study of any particular art or science. 
. . . That knowledge which neither improves the heart 
nor meliorates the temper, which makes us neither more 
useful nor more pleasing, I cannot consider as a desirable 
acquisition.' 

This is a little vague, since only experience can prove 
what branches of knowledge tend to improve the heart, or 
' meliorate'' the temper. Moreover, for a lady who had read 
Homer in her youth, and scribbled a good deal of poetry 
in later years, she was perhaps rather hard upon such of 
her sisters as indulged their tastes in other intellectual 
exercises. But then she prided herself on never publish- 
ing her compositions, which were lost or given away as 
soon as written. Although not an advocate of the rights 
of women, Mrs. Grant had no very exalted opinion of 
the other sex, and positively despised old bachelors. ' I 
love to hear of people marrying,' she writes, ' but chiefly 
for the sake of the men concerned ; for old maids I have 
known both happy and respectable, but old bachelors 
hardly ever. I have no patience with them, and would 
have them all learn to knit. . . . Tavern company and 
bachelor circles make men gross, callous, and awkward ; 
in short, disqualify them for superior female society. 
The more heart old bachelors of this kind have, the more 
absurd and insignificant they grow in the long-run ; for 
when infirmity comes on, and fame and business lose 
their attractions, they must needs have somebody to love 
264 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

and trust, and become the dupes of wretched toad-eaters 
and the slaves of designing housekeepers.'' 

The only sorrows of the twenty years spent at Laggan 
were caused by the deaths of four out of the twelve 
Grant children, one of whom, a promising boy, had 
lived to the age of sixteen when he fell a victim to 
consumption. In 1801 Mr. Grant, whose health had 
been gradually declining for some time, died after only 
a few days of actual illness, leaving his widow with eight 
children, and a very small income. For a couple of 
years the Duke of Gordon permitted her to keep on the 
farm at Laggan while she looked about her and made 
plans for the future. It was suggested that she should 
publish a selection of the verses that she had been 
accustomed to scribble so freely. ' I had been often 
urged,' she explains, ' to write for the booksellers ; but, 
in the first place, I had more dread of censure than 
hope of applause ; and besides, I could not find leisure, 
devoted as I was to a tenderly affectionate husband, 
whose delicacy of constitution and still greater delicacy 
of mind made my society and attendance essential to 
him. It is gratifying to me to think of my steadiness 
in this refusal. . . . Before I had ever heard of the 
project for my advantage — indeed, before the materials 
were collected — proposals were dispersed all over Scotland 
for publishing a volume of my poems. To these pro- 
posals a specimen was annexed in what my friends 
thought my best manner. . . . Being very much attached 
to my humble neighbours, I had at one time written 
as part of a letter a page or two of poetical regret at 
the hard necessity that forced so many to emigrate. 
The friend who had preserved this eff'usion sent it home, 
and advised me to enlarge and complete the sketch. I 

265 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

did so, and thus was finished "The Highlanders," the 
principal poem in the published collection ; the rest I 
did not see again until I saw them in print." 

The Duchess of Gordon, who had a house at Kinrara, 
near Laggan, and who posed as a literary patron, in- 
terested herself in the book, and finally no less than 
three thousand subscribers were obtained. The unusual 
numbers were probably in great measure due to the 
clannish feeling of the Highlands. The name of the 
Grants was legion, and the Gordons no doubt followed 
the lead of their chieftainess. Highland poets were 
plentiful enough ; but Highland poets who attained the 
dignity of print, or even of manuscript, were rare, and it 
has already been seen what a substantial harvest ' Ossian' 
Macpherson had reaped. The subject of Mrs. Grant's 
principal poem appealed to southerners by reason of its 
freshness and novelty, while the prosaic trot of her 
rhymed couplets fell pleasantly enough upon the ear of 
that period. For modern readers, however, it is to be 
feared that the charm has irrevocably fled. The opening 
lines will give a sufficient idea of the method in which 
she has treated her picturesque theme : — 

' Come, then, explore with me each winding glen, 

Far from the noisy haunts of husy men ; 

Let us with steadfast eye attentive trace 

The local habits of the Celtic race.' 

Mrs. Grant prided herself upon having ' let herself 
alone,"" and studied neither ' the quaint simplicity of the 
new school {i.e. the Lake Poets), nor the uniform laboured 
splendour of Darwin and his imitators." Among her 
most admired productions were the Gaelic songs which 
she learned from the lips of the mountain bards, and 
translated into, it must be owned, commonplace English 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

verse. However, her book served its purpose, bringing 
substantial help to the little household, and giving 
pleasure to a large number of the less critical readers 
of the day. 



PART III. WIDOWHOOD 

Although Mrs. Grant found helping hands stretched 
out in her time of need, trouble of one kind or another 
was seldom far from her door. Shortly after Mr. Grant's 
death, a Mrs. Protheroe, the wife of the member for 
Bristol, having heard excellent accounts of the conduct 
and manners of Mary Grant, the eldest daughter, invited 
the girl to come and live with her as a friend, and offered 
to make her a suitable allowance. The offer was accepted ; 
but soon after Mary's arrival at Bristol, news was received 
of her dangerous illness, and her mother was summoned 
to her side. Leaving tlie household at Laggan in the 
care of her second daughter Isabella, then just eighteen, 
Mrs. Grant set out in mid-winter on her long and fatigu- 
ing journey to the south. She was hardly in a frame of 
mind to appreciate the scenes through which she passed ; 
and in a letter to a friend she expresses her disappoint- 
ment with the aspect of Cumberland and Lancashire, 
which she considers flat, bleak, and unvaried, having 
neither the romantic variety of Scotland nor the rich 
culture which she expected in England, The farmhouses 
struck her as gross and unrural, with ugly tiled roofs, 
and gardens formal and suburban-like. The windmills 
and sluggish clay-coloured streams made her recollect 
with painful pleasure the pure streams that poured like 
melted crystal from her Alpine hills. 

On arriving at Bristol, Mrs. Grant was informed that 

267 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

her daughter's only chance of life was to drink the waters 
of the hot wells of Clifton. Here, therefore, they estab- 
lished themselves for a couple of months, at the end of 
which time, the invalid's health being restored, they 
returned to Scotland, paying a visit to an old friend in 
Devonshire on the way. 

Mrs. Grant describes the rapturous feelings with which 
she rode across the wild moorland that lay between more 
civilised regions and her beloved Laggan, where her 
children and devoted servants eagerly awaited her ; but 
her days there were numbered. In June, 1803, the farm 
was given up, and the whole family removed to a house 
near Stirling, where they were joined by the now widowed 
Mrs. Macvicar, Here Mrs. Grant found one or two good 
friends ; and having a few acres of ground and some cows, 
she managed to create many little rural occupations for 
herself. ' The love of farming,' she observes, ' is first 
cousin to the love of nature ; no person that has ever 
tasted the sweets of weeding turnips and pulling lint, 
not to mention the transports of marking the first bloom 
nodding on potatoes, can give up these pursuits without a 
pang like that of a defeated general or a neglected beauty.' 

In her Lowland home she sadly missed the fellowship 
of the gentle and courteous peasants of Laggan. ' Here 
I am grieved with the altered manners of a gross and 
sordid peasantry,' she writes on one occasion, 'who retain 
only the form they have inherited from a pious ancestry, 
while the spirit is quite evaporated ; who regard their 
superiors with envious ill-will, and their equals with cold 
selfishness ; who neither look back to their ancestors, nor 
forward to their successors, but live and labour merely for 
the individual.' Among the neighbours of the upper 
classes there were not many who were actually congenial 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

to the lady of Laggan, who, however, adapted herself 
with cheerful good sense to her environment, observing : 
' I carefully banish from my mind the absurd and silly 
fastidiousness of working myself up to relish no conversa- 
tion but that of wits and savants ; it would be a regiyiie 
of pickles and marmalade without bread and water. 
Common sense and common integrity, with some degree 
of heart, I insist. on in my companions. Knaves and fools 
I will positively have nothing to do with. Some one 
mind that thinks and feels as I do myself is indispensable. 
'Tis like my morning tea, the only luxury I care for, 
which habit has made necessary." 

The clouds soon began to gather again on the horizon 
of the little household. The eldest son, Duncan, was 
about this time at Marlow, preparing for the army. A 
disturbance arose among the students, in which he was 
concerned as the depository of their secret, a circumstance 
that involved his mother in much anxiety and expense. 
Through the influence of a kinsman, Sir Charles Grant, 
of the India Office, the affair was hushed up, and Duncan 
received a commission in the service of the East India 
Company. The necessary equipment cost a considerable 
sum, and in this emergency her friends urged Mrs. Grant 
to publish a selection of her letters, a course from which 
she was, for many reasons, much averse. She considered 
it 'indelicate"* to publish letters in the lifetime of the 
author ; and she saw that it would be necessary to exclude 
the most amusing and interesting passages, as well as 
much harmless badinage and veritable narrative. How- 
ever, there seemed to be no other method of raising 
money, and in January, 1805, she went to London by sea, 
a twelve days' voyage, in order to arrange her son's affairs 
and interview publishers. 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

Armed with an introduction, Mrs. Grant went to 
Messrs. Longman and Rees, feeling as much ashamed of 
her defective and ill-arranged manuscript as ever Falstait 
was of his ragged recruits. In a few days, more fortunate 
than the ordinary literary aspirant, she was informed that 
her manuscript was considered suitable for publication, 
and would appear in three or four months'" time. The 
author was to receive half the profits, the booksellers 
bearing the risk of printing. A stay of six weeks with a 
friend at Richmond enabled Mrs. Grant to complete her 
business, and also to see something of the amusements of 
town. She was taken to a performance of the infant 
Roscius, where she marvelled at the folly of spoiling so 
fine a child by anticipating his capabilities and ruining 
his constitution. She also paid a visit to the Opera, but 
she confesses that the music was Greek to her, and that 
she fell asleep in the middle of the evening. More to her 
taste was an introduction to a little literary society, a 
dinner with Mrs. 'Epictetus' Carter, and a chat with 
Joanna Baillie. 

Nothing more was heard of the Letters from the Moun- 
tains during the remainder of that year, which passed 
quietly at Stirling. Books were more easily obtainable 
now, and Mrs. Grant records the pleasure she received 
from Campbell's Poems and Hayley's Life ofCotoper. 

'I wish you would tell me,"* she writes to an old friend, 
' whether you admire CampbelPs " words that glow and 
thoughts that burn '" as much as I do ; and whether you 
are tempted to have a little Teraphim image of Cowper 
in your chamber for your private devotions ; and whether 
you are very proud that so many women distinguished 
for intellect and elegance, as well as virtue and piety, 
gave up the pleasures of this vain world for a time to 
270 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

extract the thorns from his heart, and pour in the wine 
and oil of consolation. I am always glad when I can 
warrantably boast of my own sex. We are better than 
men upon the whole. Indeed, the few amiable men I 
have known had many femalities in their tastes and 
opinions, but then I must allow the most respectable 
women have some masculine traits too. Nature does 
nothing wrong. It is women who affect and assume 
the masculine character that are insufferable."* 'Are 
you not charmed with the Lay of the Last Minstrel V 
she asks in another letter, dated November 1805 ; and 
after bidding her friend read the poem on her knees, 
continues : ' Woe be to you if you ever apostatise from 
your love and duty to the land of cakes, which is indeed 
the land of social life and social love, and lies in a happy 
medium between the dissipated gaiety and improvident 
thoughtlessness of the Irish, and the cold and close 
attention to petty comforts and conveniences that absorbs 
the English mind.' 

In the spring of 1806 Mrs. Grant received a sudden 
request that she would write a preface for her Letters 
from the Mountains^ which she had begun to despair of 
seeing published. The preface was dashed off, and in 
the course of the summer she was astonished to hear 
a casual remark that a book of that name divided with 
one or two other new works the attention of readers in 
town. In October of the same year she mentions the 
warm interest that the book has excited even in strangers, 
and the considerable pecuniary benefit that she has already 
reaped. Longman and Rees sent her their account, in 
which they allowed her a handsome sum in addition to 
her half-profits ; while three merchants of London sent 
her a bill for three hundred pounds as a tribute of 

271 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

their sincere admiration. Her daughter Charlotte, who 
was staying with friends in town, received many visits 
from fashionable ladies who were anxious to know all 
particulars about the author, even to her height and 
complexion ! 

Chief among the admirers of the Letters were Dr. 
Porteous, Bishop of London ; Sir James Grant, Master 
of the Rolls ; and Mr. Hatsell, Clerk of the House of 
Commons. A second edition of the work being called for. 
Dr. Porteous offered to edit it himself, compressing the 
Letters into two volumes, and marking those which were 
to be omitted. The Bishop, as might perhaps have been 
expected, expelled many of the chitchat letters, whereat 
Mrs. Grant declared that she was in nowise mortified, 
although she still thought (and a modern generation will 
certainly agree with her) that characteristic traits of 
Highland life and manners might be obvious in domestic 
insignificant letters, which, ' like straws in a thatched 
roof, are nothing singly, yet in a connected form give the 
appearance of warmth and comfort.' 

Mrs. Grant was now a recognised celebrity, though 
the reviews had paid scant attention to her work, the 
Edinburgh ignoring it, and the Critical treating it with 
scorn. She explains the neglect of the Edinburgh by 
the fact that the literati of the time were divided into 
two camps — philosophers and enthusiasts ; Jeffrey and his 
reviewers belonging to the first, Walter Scott and herself 
to the second. The reviews in general treated feminine 
productions with unqualified scorn, never mentioning 
anything of the kind but with a sneer. Of late they had 
clubbed together their whole stock of talent to attack 
the Highlanders in general, and Fingal in particular. 
' Judge, then,' she continues, ' what favour I, an illiterate 
272 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

female, loyalist and Highlander, am to find at the hands of 
such a tribunal. . . . Walter Scott, the charming minstrel 
of the Border, is lately enlisted in the critical corps ; such 
a loyalist as he appears like Abdiel among fallen angels.'' 

The Letters more than held their own in spite of the 
reviewers, and the second edition brought the author the 
welcome sum of three hundred pounds. Mrs. Hook, wife 
of the Dean of Worcester, and sister-in-law of Theodore 
Hook, though unknown to Mrs, Grant, wrote to offer 
herself as a friend and correspondent. A kinswoman, 
Mrs. Peter Grant, whose husband was minister of Duthill 
and Rothiemurchus, at once turned blue-stocking, and 
thenceforward had but one aim in life — to rival the fame 
of Mrs. Grant of Laggan. Mrs, Peter wrote two volumes 
full of heather and sunsets, grey clouds and mists, which 
had no success, although the clan loyally bought up half 
the edition. The original Mrs. Grant's head does not 
appear to have been turned by all this adulation. She 
was aware that her success was partly to be attributed 
to the novelty of her subject, and partly to the taste for 
nature and simplicity which had been revived by Rousseau 
in the preceding century, and was now being fostered by 
the Lake poets. But indeed the fortunate author had 
enough to keep her sober. Her children all seem to have 
inherited their father's delicacy of constitution, and in 
1807 her daughters Charlotte and Catherine both fell ill, 
probably with some form of consumption, the first dying 
in April, the second in August of the same year. So 
that the period of literary triumph was in reality a period 
of the deepest domestic woe. 

It was probably to distract her mind from her private 
sorrows that Mrs, Grant began her sketch of Madame 
Schuyler, and of life in Albany before the Revolution, 
s 273 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

which she called The Memoirs of an American Lady. 
In January 1808 she went to town, probably to arrange 
about its publication with Longman, whom she described 
as the prince of booksellers, the delicacy and liberality 
with which he had treated her being such as to do honour 
to all Paternoster Row. On this occasion she stayed at 
Windsor with a Grant cousin, who was a friend of Mrs. 
Carter and Lady Hesketh, and also with Sir Charles and 
Lady Legard at Sunbury. A fellow-guest at the latter 
house was Catherine Fanshawe, amateur artist and poet, 
now best known by her charade on the letter ' H,'' begin- 
ning, * 'Twas whispered in heaven, "'twas muttered in 
hell,"' at one time attributed to Byron. Of this lady Mrs. 
Grant writes to one of her daughters : — 

' I have known very few persons possessed of talents so 
great and various. While here she received a letter from 
Hayley to announce the marriage of "Johnny of Norfolk " 
[Cowper's young cousin and protector] with a lady young, 
lovely, and truly amiable ; she is an orphan of independent 
fortune, well educated in the country, where she lived 
with her relations. She is elegant, musical, and pious, 
and has studied Cowper with ever more delight. Charmed 
with the playful innocence and disinterested kindness that 
appear in Cowpers sketches of Johnny's character, she 
sighed, and wished that " Heaven had made her such a 
man." Her relations, notwithstanding Johnny's confined 
circumstances and unprepossessing appearance — for he 
is little and diffident in manner — told his people that 
Johnny might try. He did, and succeeded ; for when 
you know him he is charming, innocent, sweet-tempered, 
and a delightful letter-writer.' 

The Amei'ican Lady sold well, going through several 
editions, though perhaps in England it did not enjoy the 
274 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

same vogue as the Letters J'r am the Mountains. About 
this time Mrs. Grant, having been asked by Lady Glasgow 
and one or two other ladies to take charge of their young 
daughters, contemplated removing to London, and there 
setting up a very 'select' establishment for young ladies. 
But her girls were so averse from leaving their native 
land, that it was decided the move should be no further 
than to Edinburgh. In the spring of 1809 Mrs. Grant 
paid a visit to the Scottish capital, probably to look for 
a house, and here she received a welcome befitting a dis- 
tinguished literary character. The Duchess of Gordon 
happened to be in Edinburgh, and invited the Highland 
author to her house, her Grace's ruling passion at that 
time being literature, and her chief desire to be an 
arbitress of literary taste and the patron of genius ; a 
distinction for which her want of early culture and the 
flutter of a life devoted to very different pursuits had 
rather disqualified her. In a letter to Catherine Fan- 
shawe, Mrs. Grant says : — 

' I called on the Duchess of Gordon, and was much 
gratified to see Sir Brooke Boothby,^ though he looked 
so feeble and so dismal that one would have thought him 
just come from writing those sorrows sacred to Penelope. 
The Duchess said that on Sunday she never saw company, 
nor played cards, nor went out ; in England indeed she 
did so, because every one else did the same, but she would 
not introduce those manners into this country. I stared 
at these gradations of piety, growing warmer as it came 
northwards, but was wise enough to stare silently. She 
said I must come that evening, as she would be alone. I 
found Walter Scott, whom I had never met before. Lady 
Keith — Johnson's Queenie — and an English lady, witty 
^ A poetaster of the Lichfield set. 

275 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

'ho came and went with Mr. 
Scott. I think Mr. Scott's appearance very unpromis- 
ing and commonplace ; yet though no gleam of genius 
animates his countenance, much of it appears in his con- 
versation, which is rich, varied, easy, and animated, with- 
out any of the petulance with which the " Faculty " are 
not unjustly reproached.'' 

In an unpublished letter to a friend, Mrs. Baker, dated 
December 14, 1809, Mrs. Grant explains her motives for 
the move to Edinburgh, and also gives some details about 
the family circumstances. ' I have now to thank you [she 
writes] for a very kind letter delivered by your frequent 
and grateful guest, Mary, and to congratulate you on 
Miss Charlotte's having borne her journey to London so 
well, of which I was informed by our mutual friend Mrs. 
Hook, I was very much gratified by receiving from 
Mary the most agreeable accounts of your future pro- 
spects in regard to the son and daughter for whom you 
have prepared a retreat so simply elegant and every way 
comfortable. I hope the years to come will in some 
measure recompense you for the sad privations and 
anxieties by which the latter period has been clouded, 
I was quite mortified to hear Mr. Robert had been so 
near us without seeing us, and particularly without seeing 
Stirling. This ancient city is not only interesting as the 
scene of many singular events, and as containing within 
itself several curious antiquities, but as distinguished for 
its lofty and romantic situation, and for the extensive 
and varied views of high cultivation and wild sublimity 
that it commands. But of this you would hear enough 
from Mary, who is quite alive to all the beauties and 
advantages of the situation. 

' Indeed, that is much the same case with the whole 
276 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

family; and they are so attached to the spot, and so 
sensible of the kindness of the neighbours, that they 
seem to consider the approaching removal to Edinburgh 
as a great misfortune. It is very singular to find 
creatures so young as they are so little dazzled with 
the thoughts of living in a gay capital where they have 
many friends and relations. I am not sorry for it, how- 
ever, for I think strong local attachments and a love of 
rural scenery are proofs of that simplicity of taste and 
goodness of heart which in young people are most desir- 
able. I should not leave the kind, affectionate neigh- 
bours who seem so concerned at my departure if my 
stay here were compatible with my views and pursuits. 
But the Countess of Glasgow's children, and one or two 
more whom I may possibly receive, require French and 
Italian teachers, besides those for music, better than they 
can find here. This is a great advantage which I derive 
from going to Edinburgh. I never professed to derive 
support for my family from the emoluments of the few 
young people I proposed to keep. But along with what 
I already possess, I expected by that means to have 
a little more room. I shall have in Edinburgh the 
advantage of attaining my purpose with a smaller 
number from the greater cheapness of everything 
there. . . . 

' I have now. Madam, a piece of information to com- 
municate which I know gives you satisfaction, tho"* it 
relates to one whom you never did, and probably never 
will, see. An expedition has been sent out from Bombay 
(a small one, as you may suppose) to take possession of 
the Isle Rodriguez, a small island belonging to Portugal, 
which, lying near the Mauritius, is considered as a proper 
shelter for our trade, or something of that nature. My 

277 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

son, it seems, has been appointed commissary and pay- 
master to this expedition. So serious a trust should, I 
think, scarcely have been reposed on a youth of twenty, 
unless his conduct and his application to his military 
duties gave them to suppose he was in some degree 
qualified for it. I perfectly remember, being near the 
same age with the late lamented Sir John Moore, that 
he was when but eighteen years old appointed paymaster 
to the Duke of Hamilton's, and that he discharged the 
difficult duties of that office to the general satisfaction. 
But this was a rare instance. When I was in Edinburgh, 
where I went to meet Mary and regulate my future plans, 
I found so many people there in grief and consternation 
about the missing ships in India that one would imagine 
the whole town had a concern in them. This and many 
other [things] prevents my being thrown off my balance 
by this gleam of prosperity. Of those who return with 
wealth from that pernicious climate, we all hear ; but of 
thousands who sink beneath its influence, none retain 
any long recollection but those who weep in secret their 
peculiar loss. . . .'' 

A house was taken at Edinburgh in Heriot Row, 
where Henry Mackenzie, the author of The Man of Feeling 
and many other novels, was a near neighbour. Scott and 
Jeffrey were among the earliest callers upon the Grants, 
who established themselves in their new home in March 
1810. 'You would think,' observes Mrs. Grant, in de- 
scribing her two distinguished visitors, ' that the body 
of each was formed to lodge the soul of the other. 
Jeffrey looks the poet all over ; the ardent eye, the 
nervous agitation, the visibly quick perceptions keep one's 
attention awake in expectation of flashes of genius ; nor 
is that expectation disappointed, for his conversation is 
278 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

ill a high degree fluent and animated. Walter Scott 
has not a gleam of poetic fire in his countenance, which 
merely suggests the idea of plain good sense ; his con- 
ceptions do not strike you as so rapid or brilliant as 
those of his critic ; yet there is much amusement and 
variety in his good - humoured, easy, and unaffected 
conversation."" 

The Grants were made much of in the Scottish capital, 
the mother's championship of her countrymen, her 
resolute and cheerful endurance of the many blows that 
Fate had dealt, to say nothing of her unusual con- 
versational powers, ensuring her the admiration and 
sympathy of her new friends. Her later correspondence 
forms a record of literary life and society in Edinburgh 
between the years 1810 and 1838 ; for not only was she 
well acquainted with all the principal writers in the town, 
but few distinguished strangers, whether English or 
American, passed through the capital without paying 
their respects to ' the celebrated Mrs. Grant of Laggan.' 
She kept up, after her wont, with the new publications 
of the day, though she wrote little else except an essay 
on the Superstitions of the Highlands (1811) and some 
unimportant verses. We are enabled to follow the 
course of her reading through the pages of her corre- 
spondence with her English friends, more especially with 
Mrs. Hook and Miss Fanshawe. Now she writes in en- 
thusiastic terms of her delight in Gray's Letters, then of 
her more chastened pleasure in the correspondence of Mrs. 
Carter and Miss Seward. The publication of Rokehy is 
a source of patriotic triumph ; for she points out how 
much richer the notes of Scott's former poems are in 
allusions, traditions, and quotations from local poetry. 
' But where is the local poetry of England ? Granville 

279 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

and Pope in very recent years have celebrated Windsor 
and the Thames, and our own countryman Thomson hung 
a wreath on Richmond Hill. But what other place 
in England can be mentioned that wakes one poetical 
recollection ? ' 

Henry Mackenzie soon became an intimate friend of 
the family, though Mrs. Grant regrets his total lack of 
humour. She confesses that she is unable to refrain from 
liking ' the arch-critic' (Jeffrey), in spite of his manifold 
literary offences. Jeffrey, indeed, though he was in- 
hospitable in his Revieza, made some amends by under- 
taking a tour to Glenroy and Loch Laggan, and coming 
back absolutely enchanted with his experiences. Another 
new friend, made some years later, was Professor Wilson, 
better known as ' Christopher North."* ' Did I^'^ever tell 
you,' writes Mrs. Grant, a propos of an allusion to the 
Lake poets, ' of one of the said poets we have in our 
town here — indeed, one of our intimates — the most pro- 
voking creature imaginable ? He is young, handsome, 
wealthy, witty, has great learning, excellent spirits, a 
wife and children that he dotes on, and no vice that I 
know of, but virtuous principles and feelings. Yet his 
wonderful eccentricity would send any one but his wife 
mad."" This eccentric poet was, of course, Christopher, then 
distinguished as the author of The Isle of Palms. One 
of the most striking proofs of his unconventionality, in 
Mrs. Grant's eyes, was his undertaking a walking tour 
with his wife through the remoter Highlands. ' I shall 
be charmed to see them come back alive,' she observes. 
' Meantime, it has cost me not a little pains to explain 
to my less romantic friends in their track that they are 
genuine gentlefolks in masquerade.' Happily the ad- 
venturous poet and his mate returned 'in the highest 
280 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

health and spirits, having walked several hundred miles 
in the Highlands, seen much beauty, received much 
courtesy, and slept in the humblest cottages, always 
getting clean beds ; in short, never did anything turn 
out so well that was looked upon as so ridiculous at the 
outset/ 

From the first appearance of Scott as a poet he 
remained Mrs. Grant's literary hero-in-chief. Even his 
less successful works she preferred to the masterpieces of 
other writers, on the ground that ' the king's chaff is 
better than other folks' corn.' At the time when the 
extraordinary popularity of Marmion had, as Scott 
confessed, almost thrown him off his balance, ' a shrewd 
and sly observer, Mrs. Grant of Laggan,' to quote 
Lockhart's Life, ' said wittily enough on leaving an 
assembly where the poet had been surrounded by all the 
glare and buzz of fashionable ecstasy, " Mr. Scott always 
seems to me like a glass through which the rays of 
admiration pass without sensibly affecting it ; but the bit 
of paper that lies beside it will presently be in a blaze, 
and no wonder."' By the 'bit of paper' Mrs. Scott 
was meant, who was far more elated at her husband's 
popularity, and far more cast down by critical attacks 
upon him, than he was himself. Mrs. Grant was per- 
suaded of the identity of the author of Waverley from 
the first appearance of that novel. ' I am satisfied,' she 
writes, ' that Walter Scott, and no other, is the author 
of that true and chaste delineation of Scottish manners. 
He is not, however, just to the Highlanders; and the 
specimens of Highland manners that he gives are not 
fair ones.' 

Mrs. Grant herself was one of the numerous writers 
who were held responsible for the authorship of the 

281 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

Waverley novels. In disclaiming any share in their 
production to an American admirer, she spoke of the 
real author in terms of such perfect assurance that her 
correspondent believed Scott must have confided his 
secret to her. This having been mentioned to Scott by 
Miss Edgeworth in 1824, he replies with some asperity : 
' As for honest Mrs. Grant, I cannot conceive why the 
deuce I should have selected her for a mother-confessor ; 
if it had been yourself or Joanna, there might have been 
some probability in the report ; but good Mrs. Grant is 
so very cerulean, and surrounded by so many fetch-and- 
carry mistresses and misses, and the maintainer of such 
an unmerciful correspondence, that though I would do 
her any kindness in my power, yet I should be afraid to 
be very intimate with a woman whose tongue and pen 
are rather overpowering. She is an excellent person 
notwithstanding."* 

In 1814 death was again busy in Mrs. Grant's family. 
Her daughter Anne died in August, and in the same 
month — though of course the news did not reach Edin- 
burgh till much later — her elder son, Duncan, died in 
Surat. Duncan had already distinguished himself in his 
profession, and a brilliant career seemed to lie open before 
him. When it had been arranged that Mrs. Grant 
should receive three 3r four young ladies into her family, 
with a view to making some provision for her daughters, 
Duncan had written to his mother to remonstrate with 
her for rendering his sisters independent of him. Her 
answer deserves to be quoted, if only to show how much 
wider and more tolerant were her views than those of the 
average ' good woman ' of the period, who was apt to 
regard her less fortunate sisters as quite beyond the 
pale of humanity. 
282 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

' I must now tell you," runs this remarkable letter, ' of 
a very strong motive that I have for keeping your sisters 
independent of you. I regard with very great compassion 
most men who are obliged to pass their lives in India. 
Far from home, and burdened perhaps with relations that 
keep them back, they seek a resource in forming temporary 
connections with the natives. These, I am told, are often 
innocent and amiable creatures, who are not aware of 
doing anything reprehensible in thus attaching themselves. 
The poor woman who has devoted herself to her protector 
secures his affection by being the mother of his children. 
Time runs on ; the unfortunate mother, whom he must 
tear from his heart and throw back into misery and 
oblivion, is daily forming new ties to him. The children, 
born heirs to shame and sorrow, are for a time fondly 
cherished, till the wish of their father's heart is fulfilled, 
and he is able to return to his native country, and to 
make the appearance in it to which his ambition has long 
been directed. Then begin his secret but deep vexations ; 
and the more honourable his mind, the more aff*ectionate 
his heart, the deeper are those sorrows which he dare not 
own, and cannot conquer. The poor rejected one, perhaps 
faithful and fondly attached, must be thrown off"; the 
whole habits of his life must be broken ; he must pay the 
debt he owes to his progenitors, and seek to renew the 
comforts of the domestic circle by soliciting some lady 
glad to give youth and beauty for wealth and consequence. 
The forsaken children, once the objects of his paternal 
tenderness, must be banished and have the sins of their 
father sorely visited upon them. 

' I will spare myself and you the pain of finishing this 
picture, which you must know to be a likeness, not of 
an individual only, but of a whole tribe of expatriated 

283 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

Scotchmen who return home exactly in this manner. This 
is what I dread in your case, and would fain avoid. All 
that remains to me is, in the first place, not to burden 
you with encumbrances that may check the freedom of 
your will ; and in the next, to assure you that if any 
person whom it would be decent or proper for you to 
connect yourself with by honourable ties should gain your 
affections, your mother and sisters will be ready to adopt 
her to theirs. Difference of nation, even of religion, 
would not alienate us from any wife whom you might 
choose. Doubtless we should much prefer that you were 
married to one we knew and esteemed ; but we should 
far rather make room for a stranger who was modest and 
well-principled than see you in the predicament I have 
described.' 

It would be well if more mothers had the courage and 
humanity to address their sons in such a strain. It may 
also be pointed out how fully j ustified Mrs. Grant was in 
her then rather unusual action of trying to render her 
daughters self-supporting instead of allowing them to 
remain dependent upon the precarious life and goodwill 
of a male relation. 

In 1815 the now diminished family moved to a house 
in Princes Street. About this time a quaint little incident 
happened at a party at the house of Lady Charlotte 
Campbell ^ (afterwards Bury), which shows the enthusiasm 
that Mrs. Grant's work had aroused in one at least of her 
many readers. ' Judge of my astonishment,'' she writes, 
' when a very handsome and fashionable young man asked 
if I was Mrs, Grant of Laggan. Hearing I was, he flew 
across the room, said I was one of the persons in Scotland 
he most wished to see, and kissed my hand rapturously. 
^ Author of Flirtation and other novels. 

284 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

. . . He then descanted on the poem of "The High- 
landers" as awaking his feeling and enthusiasm for 
Scotland at a very early age. I resolved to stay him out 
and learn who he was. Lady Charlotte told me, to my 
still greater surprise, that he was of royal lineage — in 
short, he is the Duke of Sussex's son ^ by Lady Augusta 
Murray.' Mrs. Grant compares this little scene with the 
action of a young English lady, who nearly swooned on 
being presented to Walter Scott, and kissed the hand of 
Henry Mackenzie. Scott's comment was, ' Did you ever 
hear the like of that English lass, to faint at the sight of 
a cripple Clerk of Session, and kiss the dry wrinkled hand 
of an old tax-gatherer ? ' 

Among Mrs. Grant's literary guests in 1817 were 
Southey, the Poet Laureate, and Joanna Baillie, the latter 
then in the height of her fame, her works being approved 
even by the arch-critic Jeffrey. ' The Laureate,' - says 
our chronicler, 'has the finest poetical countenance, 
features unusually high and somewhat strong though 
regular, and a quantity of bushy black hair. I have 
heard Southey called silent and constrained ; I did not 
find him so. He talked easily and much, without seem- 
ing in the least consequential, nor saying a single word 
for effect.' Joanna Baillie ^ was accompanied to Edin- 
burgh by her sister Agnes, whom ' people like in their 
hearts better than Joanna, though they would not say so 
for the world, thinking that would argue great want of 
taste. I for my part would greatly prefer the Muse to 
walk in a wood, or sit in a bower with ; but in that 

^ Captain D'Este. 

" Southey was then in his forty-fourth year. He had been appointed 
Poet Laureate in 1813. 

* Joanna was then fifty-five. She died in 1851, in her ninetieth year. 

285 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

wearisome farce, a large party, Agnes acts her part much 
better. The seriousness and simplicity of Mrs. Joanna's 
manner overawes you from talking commonplace to her; 
and as for pretension, or talking fine, you would as soon 
think of giving yourself airs before an Apostle." 

The chief event of the year 1820 was a visit to 
Dumfries, where the author of 'The Highlander' had 
an interview with Burns's widow Jean, ' a very comely 
woman, with plain sound sense and very good manners. 
She is much esteemed and respected in the place, and 
lives in the same house that her husband inhabited in 
a retired part of the town. The street is now called 
Burns' Street. Her house is a model of neatness and 
good taste ; the simple elegance with which everything 
is disposed is so consistent, and the room in which the 
hapless bard used to write is still in its former state, 
as if it were a crime to alter its simple furniture.' 
Another interesting visit was to Abbotsford, which Mrs. 
Grant declared she should have guessed to belong to the 
' gifted baronet,' even though she had known nothing of 
the fact. 

' I can scarcely believe,' she observes about this time, 
' that any one has more vivid enjoyment of Scott's novels 
and Wordsworth's "Excursion" than myself; for I am 
convinced there does not exist a person of decent station, 
in any degree cultivated or refined, who has had more 
intercourse with the lower classes. Long days have I 
knit my stocking, or carried my infant from sheaf to 
sheaf, sitting and walking in the harvest-field, atten- 
tively observing conversation which for the first few 
years I was not supposed to understand. Seldom a day 
passed that I did not find two or three petitioners in 
the kitchen, respectfully entreating for advice, medicine, 
286 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

or some other little favour. Often I sat down with them 
and led them to converse, captivated with the strength 
and beauty of the expressions in their native tongue. 
. . . Edinburgh has done its best to laugh Wordsworth 
out of fashion, but without success. People laugh at the 
Pedlar [in the ' Excursion ""J. I do not ; all the realities 
of life are so real to me, and the peculiarities of the 
Scottish manners of fifty years ago have left so vivid an 
impression on my mind, that I can easily conceive a 
pedlar reading Milton. . . . Whoever has read the Bible 
with an open mina and with a certain degree of imagina- 
tion, has nothing more to learn of the sublime and the 
pathetic ; moreover, he will not find the transition to 
Milton very difficult."' 

In 1821 Mrs. Grant lost her youngest daughter 
Moore, who died after a long illness at the age of twenty- 
four. She was herself now more or less crippled by a 
fall which had injured her side, but otherwise she retained 
her wonderful health and her courageous serenity of 
mind. She observes in a letter written in her sixty- 
eighth year that it has always been the fashion to hold 
old women cheap everywhere except in Scottish novels, 
and among the North American Indians. 'I think," she 
continues, ' we old women begin to be more appreciated 
since the spread of knowledge has made us all a thinhhig 
people. Formerly, a woman uncultivated and moving in 
a narrow circle was only of consequence in the days of 
her youth and usefulness; and unless animated by a 
lively devotion, was apt to grow torpid, and be forgotten 
by all but her nearest relations. Now that the powers 
of the mind are more called into action, that season 
lasts longer, and old women take more interest in the 
young, and create more interest in themselves. We grow 

287 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

old without growing mouldy, and the young mingle our 
knowledge with their own acquirements." 

Certainly Mrs. Grant did not allow herself to grow 
mouldy, but kept up gallantly with the times. In 1821 
the Highland Society of London awarded her a gold 
medal for her essay on ' The Past and Present State of the 
Highlands,"* while by the advice of Henry Mackenzie she 
occupied her leisure in translating Gaelic poems. In 
1823 she is full of a new book that everybody is reading, 
De Quincey's Confessions of an English Opium-Eater, 
and observes : ' Many strange people have I encountered 
in my journey through life, and among the rest this same 
opium-eater. I spent an idle half day talking with him 
some fourteen years ago in London, when he was a student 
at Oxford, and have met him once since. I directly 
recognised him through the thin disguise in his book."" 
Another new literary celebrity of this period was Miss 
Ferrier, whose first novel. Marriage, was thought by some 
of her admirers to surpass anything that Scott ever 
wrote. Of this Mrs. Grant remarks: 'It was evidently 
the production of a clever, caustic mind, with much 
good painting of character in it. I have just finished 
a hasty perusal of a new work by the same author, 
The Inheritance, and join the general voice in calling 
it clever, though there is perhaps too much of caricature 
in it throughout."* Mrs. Grant delighted in the novels 
of Jane Austen and Miss Edgeworth, and upon certain 
other specimens of contemporary fiction — now dead — 
she utters the following piece of criticism, which is worth 
quoting if only because it is so peculiarly applicable to 
certain popular productions of the present day : ' The 
dialogue, though clever and witty, has too much of the 
" snip-snap short and interruption smart "" of the old 
288 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

comedy ; you cannot fancy people playing thus at in- 
tellectual shuttlecock. The author is so pleased with 
the sparkles he continually strikes out that he neglects 
probability and the conduct of the story, forgetting that 
in a picture shade is necessary as well as light.' 

In June 1823 Isabella Grant, who was generally 
regarded as the flower of the flock, died after a short 
illness. The mother bore up with her never-failing 
courage under this terrible blow, which left her with but 
one daughter and one son remaining out of a family of 
twelve. Great sympathy was felt for her in her troubles, 
not only by her fellow-citizens, but also by visitors to 
Edinburgh. In the privately-printed correspondence of 
Mr. John Carne, author of Letters from the East, there 
is a curious little word-portrait of Mrs. Grant about this 
time. Writing from Edinburgh in September, 1823, 
he says : — 

'Among the literary ladies of my acquaintance here 
is Mrs. Grant, whose Letters from the Mountmns and 
Memoirs of an American Lady you have probably read. 
An extraordinary woman, now just sixty years of age, 
she has lost, one after the other, within a few years, 
three lovely and accomplished daughters and a son, one 
of the former in a very melancholy way ; to use Beattie's 
affecting expression of his son, " her elegant mind became 
mingled with madness." But the vigour of her mind 
supports Mrs. Grant through all. She had reared them 
in the retirement of Laggan with such exquisite pains 
and attention, and they were so very handsome and 
elegant, that their friends seem to say they have left no 
equals behind them. The powers of conversation pos- 
sessed by Mrs. Grant are considerable, as well as her 
acquaintance with the manners of the country, and most 
T '289 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

of its characters. And what person would you give to 
the mother of such loveliness, the romantic writer whose 
sensibility of style made you love the very wilds of 
America ? Did you ever wish to see the Meg Merrilies 
of Scott ? You should see Mrs. Grant then enter a 
room with her very tall large figure, Highland plaid 
thrown over her shoulders, masculine features and harsh 
voice, with a cast in one eye. There you have the stern 
and dark Queen of the Blue-Stockings in Edinburgh." 
This picture, one hopes, is rather over-coloured, since 
the portrait of our heroine by Mackay, R.S.A., represents 
her as a pleasant, sensible-looking old lady, no beauty 
certainly, but scarcely our idea of a typical Meg Merrilies. 
In 1825 Scott, Mackenzie, Jeffrey, and other litterateur,'/ 
joined, as we read in Lockharfs Li/e, in subscribing a 
petition for a pension to Mrs. Grant of Laggan, which, 
as Scott observes in his Diary, ' we thought was a tribute 
merited by her as an authoress ; and in my opinion much 
more by the firmness and elasticity of mind with which 
she has borne a succession of great domestic calamities. 
Unhappily, there was only about a hundred pounds open 
on the pension list, and this the ministers assigned in 
equal portions to Mrs. Grant and a distressed lady, 
granddaughter of a forfeited Scottish nobleman. Mrs. 
Grant, proud as a Highlandwoman, vain as a poetess, 
and absurd as a blue-stocking, has taken this partition 
in malcm partem, and written to Lord Melville about 
her merits, and that her friends do not consider her 
claims as being fairly canvassed, with something like a 
demand that her petition be submitted to the king. 
This is not the way to make her plack a bawbee ; and 
Lord Melville, a little miffed in turn, sends the whole 
correspondence to me, to know whether Mrs. Grant will 
290 




^ a^c^tffkut^^Mi^. ^j1^. 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

accept the i?50 or not. Now, hating to deal with ladies 
when they are in an unreasonable humour, I have got 
the good-humoured Man of Feeling [Mackenzie] to find 
out the lady's mind, and I take on myself the task of 
making her peace with Lord Melville. There is no 
great doubt how it will end, for your scornful dog will 
always eat your dirty pudding. After all, the poor lady 
is greatly to be pitied — her sole remaining daughter deep 
and far gone in a decline." 

Two or three weeks later there is the further entry in 
the Diary : ' Mrs. Grant intimates that she will take her 
pudding — her pension I mean — and is contrite, as Henry 
Mackenzie vouches. I am glad the stout old girl is not 
foreclosed.' It is an amazing proof of Lockhart's want 
of consideration for others, to say nothing of his want of 
taste, that he should have published these extracts from 
a private diary when the subject of them was still 
living. Fortunately, when Lockhart's L\fc appeared, Mrs. 
Grant's family contrived that she should not see the 
obnoxious passages, and we read that she thoroughly 
enjoyed the biography of her hero. 

The passionate love and admiration with which the 
author of the Letters from the Mountains was regarded by 
some of her country-folk is well illustrated by the follow- 
ing curious and touching little incident. In May, 1823, a 
person named ' M. Jones ' wrote to Constable the pub- 
lisher to ask if Mrs. Grant of Laggan was still alive, and 
if so, where she lived, as the writer wished to send her a 
present. The desired information having been given, ' a 
box arrived,' to quote the recipient's account, ' containing 
some very good black silk for a dress ; three shawls, one 
a black silk one, and all calculated for a widow's garb ; 
a pair of excellent black silk stockings; six beautiful 

291 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

French cambric handkerchiefs, all marked with my cipher 
impressed on symbolical figures ; likewise two pairs of 
gloves ; and finally, neatly wrapped in paper, a gold 
sovereign to pay the carriage, and a very business-like 
invoice of the whole. But then the letter along with 
them, in native beauty, simplicity, and originality, was 
worth the wliole. You would be shocked were I to 
tell you how long my Letters had been the delight and 
consolation of that excellent person.' 

In August, 1825, Mrs. Grant made a short tour in the 
Highlands for the benefit of her daughter Mary's health, 
an arduous undertaking for a lady of seventy who could 
only move about with the aid of crutches. The travellers 
spent a few days at Laggan among other places, this 
being the first visit that its chronicler had paid to her 
dearly-loved village since her departure a quarter of a 
century before. Here Mrs. Grant received an invitation 
from Lady Huntly to pass a couple of days at Kinrara, 
the widowed Duke of Gordon's place on Speyside. The 
invitation was accepted, and Mrs. Grant was delighted 
both with her visit and her hostess. The most distin- 
guished of her fellow-guests were the Duke and Duchess 
of Bedford, of whom, she says, ' we had merely a glimpse 
for half an hour ; but a descendant of Lady Rachel 
Russell is always worth looking at, and the Duchess one 
may look at for herself, she being still very handsome.' 
Mrs. Grant had intended to return home by a certain 
steamer from Inverness to Greenock, but was fortunately 
prevented by an accident from taking her passage. The 
steamer was lost on the voyage, and nearly all the 
passengers perished. 

The last few years of our heroine's life may be briefly 
passed over. The failure of Constable in 1826, involving 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

as it did the ruin of Scott, caused much concern to the 
many friends and admirers of the Wizard. But Scott, 
in the words of his ever-faithful worshipper Mrs. Grant, 
was far too great a man to be lessened by adverse circum- 
stances. ' He will, I am certain,"* she writes, ' bear this 
vicissitude as he bore the harder trial of the two — pro- 
sperity. One of his chief mortifications arising from 
this business is that his works, seized by his creditors, 
must be owned as his.' A year later she writes that 
' Scott appears greater than ever. He lives with his 
daughter in a small house, seeing no company, and 
devoted to his literary labours, but always cheerful, 
placid, and unaltered."" In this year, 1827, Mary Grant, 
the last remaining daughter, died of consumption. A 
young niece came to live with the bereaved mother, re- 
maining until the marriage of Mrs. Grant's son in 1833. 

In June 1828 Edward Irving was creating a great 
sensation in Edinburgh, and Mrs. Grant was persuaded 
by her son to go and hear him. ' He preached,' she says, 
' at seven a.m., but it was necessary to take possession of 
a seat an hour before the service began. I heard nothing 
that raised him above the place that he formerly held in 
my estimation ; but in justice I must add that the prophet 
is less affected and theatrical than I expected, that he 
has a pleasing voice, and that his action is not unsuited 
to his doctrine, which he evidently supposes to be autho- 
rised by inspiration. Of his discourse I will only say at 
present that it has little coherence, a great deal of ver- 
biage, and no indication of high imagination or sound 
reasoning. He is the sole subject of conversation."* 

Two interesting visitors of these later years were Mrs. 
Hemans and Thomas Campbell. Of the first her hostess 
says : ' I had a very charming guest before I left town 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

— no other than Mrs. Hemans/ for whom I have long felt 
something like affection. She had two fine boys witli 
her, the objects visibly of very great tenderness. She is 
entirely feminine, and her language has a charm like that 
of her verse — the same ease and peculiar grace, with more 
vivacity. She has not the slightest tinge of affectation, 
and is so refined, so gentle, that you must both love and 
respect her. ... I was sitting alone one day lately, and 
the servant announced " Mr. Campbell." Looking up, I 
saw a dejected-looking gentleman. " I should know 
you," said I, " but I cannot be sure." " Campbell the 
poet," said he, with a kind of affecting simplicity. 
Though by no means approving his political principles, 
my heart warmed to him when I saw this sweet son of 
song dejected, spiritless, and afflicted. The death of 
his wife, to whom he was much attached, appears to 
have sunk him greatly.' 

To the last, we are told, Mrs. Grant was a delightful 
companion, her conversational powers being even more 
attractive than her writings. She never lost her interest 
in life, was always delighted to welcome visitors, and 
loved to collect children and young people about her. 
Even her powers of being actively useful to her fellow- 
creatures continued long after she had reached an age at 
which most women are content to sit with their hands 
before them and rest. In June, 1831, when she was in 
her seventy-seventh year, she describes a typical day of 
her life. Besides her usual occupations of reading, writ- 
ing her Memoirs, knitting, entertaining friends, and 
playing chess, she mentions receiving dependants, and 
adds : ' Could you dream of my having dependants who 

^ Mrs. Hemans was born in 1774, and died of consumption in May 
1835. 

294 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

have been all my life standing on the edge of the gulf of 
poverty without falling in ? and this not because I had 
much worldly prudence, but because I made stern self- 
denial, and what Miss Edgeworth calls civil courage, serve 
me instead. Well, but my dependants want a letter to 
some one, or advice, or a governess's place ; and my 
protegees have turned out so well, that I have constant 
applications for such persons.' 

In the same year Mrs. Grant gives an amusing descrip- 
tion of an adventure that happened to her on what was 
perhaps her last appearance at a large public gathering, 
a flower-show, at the Hopetoun Rooms. ' I had no 
bonnet,' she explains, ' but a very respectable cap ; and 
as I walked in from my sedan-chair I was surprised to see 
another lady with exactly such crutches and precisely 
such a shawl as my own, I looked with much interest at 
my fellow-cripple, which interest she seemed to recipro- 
cate. She took her place in another room, equally large 
and splendid, but so open that I had a full view of it. 
Amidst all the flush of bloom before me, I often with- 
drew my attention to regard this withered flower with 
still increasing interest ; the more so, that every time I 
turned to look her eyes met mine, and at length I thought 
with a familiar expression, till at last I remarked it to 
those around me, and said I thought she would like to 
be introduced to me when the show was over. I thought 
too I had seen her somewhere ; her figure was as ample 
as my own, but I comforted myself with the reflection 
that I had a better face, hers being almost ugly. I rose 
at length, and so did she, — but I saw her no more. Think 
of my mortification at having the laugh of the whole 
house against me on coming home. There was no such 
room, and no such lady ; large folding doors of looking- 

295 



MRS. GRANT OF LAGGAN 

glass and the reflection of my own figure had deceived 
me. When I had been talking of this other lady they 
had imagined it all playfulness, and never thought of 
the deception. This could scarcely have happened had I 
been familiar with my own countenance ; but I have 
actually not looked in a mirror for more than two years.' 
In 1838 Mrs, Grant succumbed to an attack of influenza, 
being then in her eighty-fourth year. Her character and 
her life-work cannot be better summed up than in the 
memorial written by Scott twelve years before, and sent 
to the king with the petition for a pension. In this the 
undersigned expressed their opinion that ' the character 
and talents of Mrs. Grant have long rendered her not only 
a useful and estimable member of society, but one eminent 
for the services she has rendered to the cause of religion, 
morality, knowledge, and taste. Her writings, deservedly 
popular in her own country, derive their success from the 
happy manner in which, addressing themselves to the 
national pride of the Scottish people, they breathe a spirit 
at once of patriotism and of that candour which renders 
patriotism unselfish and liberal. We have no hesitation 
in attesting our belief that Mrs. Grant's writings have 
produced a strong and salutary effect upon her countrymen, 
who not only found recorded in them much of national 
history and antiquities, which would otherwise have been 
forgotten, but found them combined with the soundest 
and best lessons of virtue and morality.' 



296 



THE 
ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

(with extracts from his unpublished love-letters) 

(1769-1799) 

The latter half of the eighteenth century will probably 
always be celebrated in history as the age of the purest 
reason, the reign of the commonest sense. Even its poets 
were reasonable, while its lovers adored before all things the 
good sense and 'judgment' of their mistresses, and based 
their hopes of matrimonial happiness upon a mutual good 
understanding, equality of sentiments, and similarity of 
tastes. From passion, with its feverish heats and chills, 
its absurd exaltations and irrational depressions, they 
shrank back in alarm and disapproval, while the very 
words and phrases of endearment were expurgated from 
their vocabulary, or chilled down to a becoming degree 
of temperature. Love became ' regard," and a lover a 
friend, passion was transformed into 'sentiment,' and charm 
into ' propriety of conduct."* 

This tendency is peculiarly characteristic of the love- 
letters addressed by John Tweddell, sometimes called 
the English Marcellus, to Miss Isabel Gunning, which 
curious effusions have recently come to light. Tweddell, 
though he has found a niche in the Dictionary of National 
Biography^ will probably be unknown even by name to 
most modern readers, since he owed his chief celebrity to a 

299 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

posthumous literary scandal, long since forgotten. Yet he 
was regarded as a ' coming man "* in his own day, and 
probably it is due to his premature death that he must be 
classed among the might-have-beens. If his horoscope 
had been cast, it would certainly have been found that he 
was born under an unlucky star ; for love, death, fame, 
even the elements, all seem to have cherished an equal 
spite against him. 

The son of Francis Tweddell, a country gentleman 
living at Threepwood, near Hexham, in Northumberland, 
John was born on June 1, 1769, and educated at a 
Yorkshire school, whence he was sent to Trinity College, 
Cambridge. Here he distinguished himself by winning 
nearly all the prizes and medals for which he competed 
(notably the three Brown Medals in one year), and was 
elected a Fellow in 1792. On leaving college he published 
his prize compositions in Greek, Latin, and English, under 
the title oi Prolusiones Juveniles, a work which was treated 
with respectful attention by the reviewers. He entered at 
the Middle Temple in obedience to his father's wishes ; but 
having no taste for law, occupied himself with his favourite 
classical studies, and with vague aspirations after a politi- 
cal or diplomatic career. He held what were regarded as 
'advanced' views, admired the principles that led to the 
French Revolution, and was on friendly terms with Charles 
Fox, Charles Grey (afterwards Earl Grey, a fellow North- 
umbrian), as well as many other members of the Whig 
party. He was also an intimate friend of Dr. Parr's, 
though that great scholar was more than twenty years his 
senior ; and he was on visiting terms with Dr. Paley. 

In July 1794 Mr. Tweddell, who was then just twenty- 
five, met Miss Isabel Gunning, daughter of Sir Robert 
Gunning (cousin of the ' beauties ' and ex-Ambassador to 
300 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

St. Petersburg), at a country house ; and after an acquaint- 
ance of three weeks, made her an offer of his hand and 
heart — valuable assets, no doubt, but not likely to be 
approved by his prospective father-in-law. Miss Gunning 
assured her lover that Sir Robert would never consent to 
his suit, but acknowledged that he was not indifferent to 
her, and agreed at his earnest request to carry on a secret 
correspondence with him. The first letter is dated July^29, 
1794,and it is evident that the pair were then staying under 
the same roof, possibly in the house of the Hon. Stephen 
Digby, who was a friend of TweddelPs, and brother-in-law 
to Isabel. This Colonel Digby was one of the equerries 
to the king, and figures largely in Madame D'Arblay's 
Diary as ' Mr. Fairly.** When Miss Burney made his 
acquaintance at Court he was a most disconsolate widower, 
having lost his first wife (a daughter of Lord Ilchester) in 
1787. He evidently made a strong impression on Fanny's 
heart, and she can hardly conceal her disappointment 
when he consoles himself, in 1790, with Margaret Gunning, 
one of Queen Charlotte's ladies-in-waiting, who figures 
in the Diary as ' Miss Fuselier.'' Mrs. Digby is described 
by her rival as a woman of learning, and her literary 
quality is proved by a manuscript found after her death 
containing her ' Last Wishes,' which is written in very 
beautiful and touching language. It is evident that 
Isabel Gunning was also an intelligent and well-read 
woman, or a man of Tweddell's stamp would hardly have 
written to her, as he does, in the tone of one addressing 
an intellectual equal. 

To return to the summer of 1794, which saw the 
beginning of our hero's brief romance. The young man, 
to quote his brother's testimony, was of the middle 
stature, and of a handsome, well-proportioned figure. 

301 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

' His address was polished, affable, and prepossessing 
in a high degree, and there was in his whole appear- 
ance an air of dignified benevolence, which portrayed 
at once the suavity of his nature and the independence 
of his mind. In conversation he had a talent so 
peculiarly his own as to form a very distinguishing 
feature of his character. A chastised and ingenious wit 
which could seize on an incident in the happiest fashion ; 
a lively fancy, which could clothe the choicest ideas in the 
best language ; these, supported by a large acquaintance 
with men and books, together with the further advantages 
of a melodious voice and a playfulness of manner singularly 
sweet and engaging, rendered him the delight of every 
company. . . . Accomplished and admired as he was, his 
modesty was conspicuous, and his whole deportment devoid 
of affectation or pretension. Qualified eminently to shine 
in society, and actually sharing its applause, he found his 
chief enjoyment in the retired circle of select friends, in 
whose literary leisure, and in the amenities of female 
converse, which for him had the highest charm, he sought 
the purest and most refined recreation.'' 

John TweddelPs first love-letter seems to have been 
written directly after his declaration of his passion, and, 
like all the others in the series, it is inscribed in an 
exquisite hand, with scarcely an erasure or alteration, 
while it is expressed with an accuracy and formality that 
are somewhat at variance with his professedly strong 
feelings and warm heart. 

'My dear Miss Gunning' (it runs), 

' The opportunities I have of speaking to you are so 

very few and so much interrupted, my mind also at these 

times is so distracted and confused, that I feel myself 

compelled to write what I am unable to say. My pen, 

302 




JOHN TWEDDELL. 

From a Silhouette 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

I fear, will not more avail me than my lips ; and if so, I 
am certain of being under little obligation to it. Yet 
silent I cannot be, tho' I am conscious that those feelings 
that might furnish expression to some men will render 
me embarrassed and almost unintelligible. I shall en- 
deavour, however, to be as explicit as I can ; and if you 
should not understand me, you will in justice pardon a 
confusion which you have yourself created. Believe me, 
my dear madam, I did not speak lightly when I said that 
I shall have serious reason either to delight in or to regret 
our accidental meeting. When I first had the happiness 
(may I call it so ?) of taking a part in that conversation 
which introduced me to you, I was not aware that it was 
to be bought at the price of so much future anxiety. . . . 
' You have asked me how an attachment so strong as 
to require confession can have arisen from an intercourse 
of so short a date. It may be impossible perhaps for you 
to conceive this, because you are unacquainted with your 
own attractions ; and it certainly is impossible for me to 
explain it, because I am not able to detail them. You 
know that such a question cannot admit of a very ready 
solution. It depends upon feelings, and upon an infinity 
of little things, the power of which is not to be described 
either singly or collectively. Of this I beseech you to be 
assured, that my regard is not of a whimsical or fleeting 
nature, nor the result of momentary passion. It is not 
the boyish admiration of a fine person, or of winning and 
engaging manners ; tho' you will permit me to say that 
these alone have in you more attractions in my eyes than all 
the united accomplishments of other women. You are too 
sincere yourself, if you are not too discerning, to suspect 
that I can mean to insult you by flattery. God Almighty 
knows that everything which I have said, or shall say to 

303 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

you, is the genuine effusion of a sincere and honest heart. 
You will therefore believe me if, after having stated those 
causes which alone are not adequate to such a profusion of 
regard, I should attempt, however imperfectly, to acquaint 
you with some of the real grounds of my attachment. 

' It is founded, then, in that similarity which I discover 
in our tempers and dispositions, in our common notions 
of men and things, and in our mutual opinions of the 
means of happiness. Do not conceive that I have drawn 
my ideas upon this subject solely from the different con- 
versations I have enjoyed with you. Where we are much 
interested we can derive information from occurrences 
apparently the most trivial and unimportant, which to 
inattentive persons are neither pregnant with meaning 
nor productive of remark. But to a person in my 
situation every gesture has significance, and every word a 
force. Since first I saw you I have scrupulously watched 
every motion and look, have examined your conduct, and 
listened to your conversation. I have beheld a disposition 
such as I never before saw ; and which, manifested as it 
now is in the sweetest and most captivating affection to 
your father, affords the most undoubted proof of those 
domestic virtues which constitute the greatest happiness 
that mortals can partake of. The qualities of your mind 
are equally delightful to me, for I never conversed with 
any woman (excepting one, the wife of a particular friend) 
who possessed the same information, and was at the same 
time so unostentatious of her knowledge, and so diffident 
of her powers."* 

After assuring his lady once again that these expres- 
sions contain no grain of flattery or compliment, the lover 
continues : — 

' My dear Miss Gunning, whether I estimate happiness 
304 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

wisely or not, that Being only knows who endowed me 
with the desire, and I hope with the capacity, of attaining 
it. I may be deceived in my notions of the things wherein 
it consists ; but they appear to me at least to be agreeable 
to reason, and not inconsistent with wisdom. To the 
exercise of the social affections, to the peaceful habits of 
domestic life, I look as to the foundations of my comfort 
and the limit of my wishes. I have not seen much life, 
but I liave seen as much perhaps of the world and its ways 
as most other men of my years, and of what I have seen I 
trust I have been no unprofitable nor incurious observer. 
Amongst all the various means that are pursued for the 
attainment of happiness, that universal end, few, very 
few, appear to me successful or satisfactory. The 
irrational dissipations of mankind, the prodigal waste of 
natural and moral excellence, the degradation of intellect, 
and the perversion of all physical good, make me 
melancholy whenever I reflect upon them. Those beings 
alone appear to me to be really happy who, under the 
tranquil conviction of a benevolent Providence, spend 
their lives in improving their minds and in exercising 
their virtues; who have one friend, at least, on whose 
affection they can at all times rely, and in whose bosom 
they can deposit their most intimate thoughts — one who, 
in sickness, in sorrow, and disaster, can alleviate their 
pains, and to whom in joy they may turn with the 
certainty of communicating equal happiness. All my 
thoughts and wishes are bent to this point ; and if 
I never attain to it, my mind is not, I fear, of sufficient 
strength to refrain from envying the bliss of others. 
But never, till very lately, did I see a person on whom 
as the object of such a pursuit my mind could con- 
tentedly rest. 

u 305 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

'I have three times been thrown, twice by design, and 
once by accident, into situations the eligibility of which 
has been cried up to me by my friends. But who can 
judge for another? Certainly, if fortune, I had almost 
said opulence, had been the object of my wishes, I might 
once at least in my life have been a very rich man. But 
the want of something or other which I have conceived 
essential to my happiness, and the firm belief that I 
should in future meet some woman whose superior merits 
would cause me to repent, have always repelled me from 
embracing any connection. More than once I have felt 
that light, fluttering fancy which begins and ends we 
know not how, nor why, nor when — which " dies in the 
cradle where it lies." And that I should have felt such 
capricious freaks of a temporary humour I cannot repont, 
since that circumstance furnishes me at present with the 
power of comparing the very different sensations which 
accompany a volatile and occasional taste, and a rational 
and stable affection. In the very long acquaintances that 
I have had with women, when opportunity was not to be 
sought, but was constant and perpetual, I could never 
endure the thought of talking to any one in the same 
strain that I have talked to you, whom I have hardly 
known three weeks, and whom I have only conversed with 
as by stealth. 

' No, my dear madam, do not conceive that I know 
myself so little as to mistake fancy for esteem, and liking 
for attachment. I know the full import of the several 
terms, and should abhor myself could I have said to you 
what I have said while there remained any scope for 
fickleness or caprice. I have always viewed with most 
unmixed and unqualified detestation that wretch who 
could make lavish declarations of a permanent regard 
306 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

that he might wantonly indulge the frolic of his vanity, 
or give vent to the burden of a hasty tho"* oppressive 
feeling. There is misery enough in the world without 
studiously devising means of creating it. Do not then 
repeat to me that I know nothing of you, and that I may 
possibly have formed an erroneous opinion of those 
qualities which now attach me to you. You are she 
whom my imagination has formed, when it has been 
most sanguine, as the companion of my days, and the 
partner of my happiness. Thus was I acquainted with 
you before I had seen you, and to you I had waited 
for the first introduction, to enter at once into the 
concerns of your life and the history of your feelings. 
Count therefore, I entreat you, on my affection as fixed 
and constant, the offspring of reason and sentiment 
combined, and only to be shaken by ifhe most iindeniahle 
conviction that either it is not returned, or that it cannot 
be gratified.' 

Here the writer breaks off for a time, but the reader 
knows little of the ' staying powers ' of an eighteenth- 
century correspondent if he thinks that the letter nears 
a conclusion. Before it was resumed, however, the lovers 
had had a private interview, and Mr. Tweddell had 
explained his pecuniary position to the lady, who 
apparently held out small hopes that her father 
would consent to the match. At the same time she 
gave him reason to believe that he had already made 
a decided impression on her heart. Her suitor continues 
his epistle next day, July 30th, in a decidedly warmer 
strain. 

' Thus far, my sweet friend,' he resumes, ' I had written 
to you yesterday. And here I should have proceeded to 
give you a candid statement of my circumstances, had I 

307 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDEIX 

not sufficiently explained them to you in the long conver- 
sation that I enjoyed with you last night. This most 
melancholy part of my letter I am therefore spared ; 
melancholy no otherwise than as from it would arise the 
objections of your father. You see how contracted my 
present income is. Yet it gave me comfort to find that 
your ideas of happiness were such as to induce you to 
think that were there no other obstacle you could live 
contented upon our little fortunes united, having before 
us the prospect of a comfortable reversion. According to 
my own ideas of competency, you and I would have enough 
for all the present comforts and conveniences of life ; and 
I would only show that if, in the natural course of events, 
accident should multiply our family wants, this contin- 
gency would be thus provided for. I am more and more 
convinced that all beyond competence contributes little 
to comfort, and that one may have a competence upon 
much less than is imagined. It has always been perfectly 
inconsistent with my sense of real attachment to induce 
any person to remove from a scene of ease and plenty to 
conflict thro' life with difficulties. I love you much 
too well to wish to place you in a situation where 
you might labour under the pressure of embarrassments, 
or where you might cast back a wishful eye upon the 
neglected opportunities of superior comforts. If I could 
ever persuade myself that the mind of her whom I 
had selected was fixed on things which were above my 
humble reach, and which, but for me, she might have 
enjoyed, I should feel really unhappy. But your wishes, 
as you have told me, are moderate; your desires are 
contracted. Mine are so too. You have no extrava- 
gances, nor many fictitious wants — I have none which 
are not those of perfect and mutual comfort. 
308 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

' You will excuse me if I appear anywhere to reckon 
too precipitately upon your entertaining an equal regard 
for me. I do not believe it, nor do I see how it is 
possible. But the favourable opinion at least which you 
kindly confessed to me with that amiable candour which 
disdains all prudish managements and affected reserve, 
gives me everything to hope from a longer and less inter- 
rupted intimacy. Yet why, or what should I hope? 
Your father measures happiness on another scale of things, 
and wishes you to move in a higher sphere. Well cal- 
culated you are indeed to decorate any situation, to be 
the pride of any and every condition. But would you 
think I only spoke an interested language if I said 
that happiness is not frequently found in company 
with grandeur ? You would not ; for I believe you 
think so yourself. If you were intended to be allied 
to opulence only, why was your mind so cultivated ? 
Why have its powers been so much inured to distin- 
guish between what is just and what is fashionable ? 
Why have you those dispositions towards everything 
that is good and sensible, if you are to be planted in 
a situation where there are so many impediments to 
their exercise ? 

' Should I really be unfortunate in this my first attach- 
ment ; should your knowledge of your father's views and 
opinions convince you zoithout question and beyond the 
possibility of doiibt that an union between us is evidently 
impracticable ; should you see no prospect, no rational and 
sober hope, no " spot of azure in a clouded sky " — then, 
my dearest and best affection, accept from me as a sincere 
friend that advice I could have no occasion to give in the 
happier character I would aspire to. As you value your 
own precious peace of mind, never let any inducement 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

under heaven tempt you to become the wife of that man 
whom for his mental and his moral qualities you do not 
love above every other being in the world. I am sure 
you would be unhappy. Pardon the presumption of one 
who can never cease to esteem and love you, and to be 
interested in your welfare, tho' he should be denied the 
exalted privilege of peculiarly contributing to it. Do I 
not seem to require forgiveness in thinking it necessary 
thus to counsel you ? I know your goodness and your 
strictness of feeling. But even the best and the strictest 
have been betrayed into a sort of pious sacrifice by a 
regard to the unhappy prejudices of ill-judging friends. 
Be not you so. If you cannot marry to make yourself 
happy, do not, to make others conceive themselves happy, 
make yourself unquestionably miserable. For on this 
step depends happiness or misery. There is, in my mind, 
no mean. I must either love to the excess of attachment 
or loathe almost to disgust. I have the warmest and the 
strongest feelings that ever inhabited any bosom, for the 
unhappiness, I fear, of the possessor. I therefore could 
never endure a state of insipid mediocrity. Her whom I 
could not consider in everything as my other self, to 
whom I could not disclose every sensation of my heart, 
her I could not live with. Such an one may do very 
well to dine with once a year as a country neighbour ; 
but live with her I never could till I prefer solitude to 
indifference. 

' This is the advice I give a sister for whom I have the 
fondest affection, and to whom, for the same reason as 
to you, any disappointment in so serious a concern would, 
I am sure, be productive of the bitterest affliction. The 
same generous sensibilities which, if tenderly cherished, 
are productive of the most refined happiness, are, if 
310 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

rudely discouraged and checked in their operations, the 
source of the most unqualified sorrow. Think, my dearest 
friend, should you meet a man Avho received your kind- 
ness with unconcern, and repaid your endearments with 
indifference, think what adequate compensation could 
you derive from exterior appendages ? I know you feel 
on this topic as I do, and therefore all I say upon it 
may appear nugatory and useless. But, alas ! I feel as 
tho' I were taking a last sorrowful farewell of my best 
beloved friend. And I cannot part without mani- 
festing in this way the interest I take in what may here- 
after befall her. Would to God that this presentiment 
may prove untrue — that my difficulties maybe conquered, 
and my fears visionary. Then should I not regret my 
sleepless hours, and my anxious and troubled reflections. 
But how may this be ? or may it be at all ? I will not 
despair — till you absolutely command me. And can you 
bear to do this ? Already, when alone, I am half distracted ! 
Write to me immediately, my very dear friend, write and 
say what appears to you most expedient for us both. Is 
there any hope for me ? Consider it well. I have grievous 
and deadly fears, and the misery of that day when you 
tell me finally to cease to love you will require an age 
of happiness to atone for. Then shall I have nothing 
left but to regret most deeply the unhappy circumstance 
of having first met you. How are all my feelings at 
war with each other ! How can I endure to express 
regret at having seen and conversed with you ? How 
many different ways I am pulled by the conflict of reason 
and passion ! I cherish the very cause of my distress, 
and recall with melancholy pleasure that first conversa- 
tion which is the source of all my present anxiety. Oh, 
Miss Gunning, my best friend, how weak is the pride 

311 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

of intellect, how sparing and feeble are the resources 
which we derive from our understanding ! I ought, 
if my worst forebodings were true, to shudder at 
the recollection of a day which has been produc- 
tive of so much pain to me. Instead of that, I dote 
on the delicious sufferings which I experience from 
a terrible suspense, bordering upon a still more terrible 
certainty. 

' I have long ago arrived at the conclusion of a reason- 
able letter, but I do not appear to have advanced one 
step. I know not how to stop, nor what it is I wish to 
say to you. You leave this place on Tuesday. What 
shall I do, or how shall I feel without you ? I cannot 
live without you in the very spot where I have doated 
on you. Few, alas ! are the opportunities I now have of 
being with you ; but when I cannot talk to you, I am 
delighted to look at you. Write to me quickly, I beseech 
you, and use no reserve whatever. I never could think 
of you, at any distance of time, however cool or phleg- 
matic I may become, without admiring everything I have 
heard you say, or seen you do. Never have you been 
guilty of the slightest deviation from the strictest pro- 
priety. Heaven is witness of the sincerity with which I 
say that no accident of time and fortune, nothing but a 
defect of my mind and the corruption of my heart, can 
ever wring from me a thought injurious to you. I can- 
not even faintly describe that kind of regard which I 
have for you. In you is comprised everything that can 
excite or perpetuate affection. Oh, for God's sake, my 
dearest of friends, let me see as much of you as I can 
while you stay. Even if it should be found necessary to 
discontinue our acquaintance hereafter for our mutual 
peace (which yet I will not and cannot believe), still 
312 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

consider that I am now so far wretched that I cannot be 
more so from continuing to talk to you. What thin 
partitions divide the bounds of happiness and misery ! 
When I talk with you, or even when I gaze upon you, 
I am happy, in spite of the most unpleasant considera- 
tions; when I leave you, I am half mad and distracted. 
You went to bed last night, and I into the supper-room. 
I had no sooner sat down than I was compelled to come 
out again. The people wanted to eat, and I to think ; 
so I am come up into my bedroom, but think I cannot. 
I fear I cannot write very intelligibly. I am sure I cannot 
sleep. I am almost ashamed to confess how weak, and 
how like a child, I passed the greater part of that long 
and tedious night. I am forced to assume cheerfulness 
when I come downstairs — yet I detest hypocrisy. Oh, 
how greatly is everything in this world in favour of the 
unfeeling ! . . . 

' There is one thing which I much wish, but I fear to 
mention it to you, because, as you do not feel as I do, 
you may possibly refuse to grant me so great an indulg- 
ence. We know, as you have said, not much of each 
other. Will you then permit me to correspond with you 
for one year at least from this time ? It is, I fear, pro- 
bable that we may not have much opportunity of meet- 
ing each other ; and it is possible also that you may not 
have the means of attaining much knowledge of my 
character. ... In the course of a year many things now 
unforeseen may happen ; and if no prospect should open 
in that time, I could not then in reason object if you 
judged it expedient for your comfort to break off the 
intercourse.' After assuring her that his attachment 
can never suffer abatement, he continues : ' It is no 
wonder that a boyish fancy for a pretty face alone 

313 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

vanishes with the face itself. But you know that my 
regard is of a very different complexion. Certain it is, 
I have not been educated in the school of Plato. No 
one can be more sensible of the power of beauty. But 
this is not "all the magic you have used." Before I 
really love, mind and disposition must also act upon me. 
. . . Should all my endeavours to be happy with you 
vanish into air, you will have rendered it almost impos- 
sible that I should ever attain the happiness that I 
before counted upon with any other woman. For / am 
just as undeniahly convinced of this truth as of my oivn 
existence — that I shall never behold upon this earth any 
woman whom I shall believe so much created and born 
for me as yourself, I shall, / am positively sure, institute 
a comparison to the disadvantage of every other female 
in the world. . . .' 

The conclusion of this letter is lost, if it ever was con- 
cluded, which one is inclined to doubt. Its pleadings 
were so far successful that Miss Gunning consented to 
carry on a secret correspondence with her lover. From 
the specimen of Mr, TweddelFs epistolary powers that 
has already been given, it seems probable that he wrote 
his lady a double letter every day ; but the next that has 
been preserved is dated September 25th, and was written 
from the young man's home at Threepwood, near Hex- 
ham. He begins by apologising to his ' ever dear friend "* 
for his last letter, ' which contained many absurd things 
written under the immediate impulse of violent feelings."* 
Can it be that he had so far forgotten himself as to 
substitute the word ' love ' for ' regard ' or ' attachment ' ? 
However that may be, he expresses his desire to converse 
with her in a calmer, more rational spirit, and in pursu- 
ance of this object sends her a list of books which she had 
314 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

asked him to recommend to her. John Tweddell, though 
in most respects a true child of his age, was as regards 
his opinions on the ' Avoman question ' distinctly in advance 
of his contemporaries. They, as has been observed, 
valued ' good sense ' in a woman, but held that she had 
no business with learning. Tweddell, in more than one 
of his letters, strongly condemns this prejudice, and he 
certainly had the courage of his opinions ; for from time 
to time he sends his ' dearest friend "" a list of books, the 
assimilation of which would test the mental digestion of 
a strong man. 

Miss Gunning was apparently engaged in reading 
Locke on the Understanding, and her lover recommends 
her to read the same author''s essay on the Conduct of 
the Understandings but not to rely too confidently on 
what he says of power and will, liberty, and necessity. 
He proceeds to recommend her Search's ^ Light of Nature 
Pursued, Home Tooke's Diversions of Purley, which he 
describes as ' the only true system of grammar^ Millar's 
LJistory of the English Constitution ^ (which she is not 
to be alarmed at because it is dedicated to Charles Fox), 
the Abbe Millofs Elements of Modern History, Formey's 
work on Ecclesiastical History,^ and Bacon's Essays, which, 
he observes, ' if you have not read them, will be a copious 
source of information. I delight in everything that great 
man ever wrote. But neither his Life of Henry VII. 
nor his Advancement of Learning are more fraught with 
everything that characterises pre-eminent powers of mind 

^ Search was the pseudonym of Abraham Tucker (1705-1774). 

^ John Millar's (1735-1801) Historical View of the English Government 
appeared in 1787. 

" Formey's work was translated from the French, and published in 
1766. 

315 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

than his general essays. At the same time that his 
sentiments are most commanding from their wisdom, his 
expressions, equally original, are most cogent and 
brilliant. His forecast is almost supernatural. In his 
works you see carelessly scattered the elements of almost 
all future discoveries. Many things that Newton himself 
afterwards unveiled, seem to have been in part foreknown 
to Bacon, tho^ his mind did not pause to undertake 
their intricate evolutions. . . . 

'Those books I have recommended that you have not 
read, I wish, my beloved friend, that you and I could 
peruse together. How I should delight in our minds thus 
travelling through such pleasing and fruitful regions ! I 
believe we should each of us profit by the other's remarks. 
I am sure I should by yours. This is a mode of reading 
to which I am very partial ; and when I am in town, I 
communicate the substance of everything I read to a 
very dear friend of mine, with whom I am in the habit 
of daily intercourse, and from whose superior mind I 
constantly derive important benefit. He pursues the 
same plan towards me, and thus is the extent of our 
respective studies, exclusive of their improved ad- 
vantage, doubled to each of us. From these collisions 
of reason truth is most likely to be struck out ; and 
we are not so apt to be led away by the authority 
of great names when the subjects they treat of, and 
the opinions they advance, are subsequently investigated, 
stripped of the persuasion of style and the graces of 
diction."* 

In a previous letter Miss Gunning, it would seem, had 

laid before her lover certain scruples relating to their 

correspondence, and more especially to the secrecy with 

which it was carried on. She could not have done him a 

316 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

greater kindness, judging from the enthusiasm with which 
he plunges into the argument. ' And now, my dear 
friend,' he continues, having concluded his catalogue of 
books, 'I must recur to the main subject of your letter. 
I hope you would not conceive that I meant to treat your 
reasoning with disrespect, because I briefly replied to it 
that it was not convincing. Your whole argument hinges 
upon your aversion to conceal our intercourse from your 
father till a favourable moment may occur for revealing 
it, and you are willing to persuade yourself that in so 
concealing it you would act morally wrong. If, indeed, 
you are absolutely wedded to this notion, I would not 
wish to weaken your good opinion of me by advising you 
to act in opposition to it. But that you should be so 
after serious reflection would, I assure you, not more 
afflict than it would surprise me. You say, " Consider it 
well yourself as an abstract question, which does not 
particularly relate to either of us ; and then tell me if 
you wish me to do that which you would be obliged to 
confess was wrong."" Most certainly I do not wish you, 
I will never persuade you, to do anything which I think 
wrong. But I give you my honour that is not the case 
here. I know of no duty, nor can divine any, which 
obliges an unmarried woman to disclose every action of 
her life to her parent. It is possible (and I am now 
assuming a very whimsical hypothesis) that some parents 
might expect such a thing. But am I therefore obliged 
to gratify every strange expectation ? And shall it be 
said that I deceive the person who entertains it ? In such 
a case it is not I who deceive him ; he deceives himself. 
As well might that person accuse me of a trespass upon 
morality who had made up his mind to the belief that I 
should kill myself. Shall I fulfil his expectations, or 

317 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

have I not a previous obligation to myself to disappoint 
them ? If, indeed, I privately commit any action which 
is in itself improper, then I may justly be said to deceive 
those friends who had a reasonable ground for contrary 
expectation. But against whom is the offence com- 
mitted ? Against those friends ? Surely not. The 
offence is committed against that Being whose laws 
imposed a prior obligation to an opposite conduct — which 
laws are obligatory on man because they are coiiducive 
to his happiness. 

' Indeed, I never heard of any duty of the nature which 
you speak of, and you know very well that were you 
"considering this as an abstract question," you could 
find no argument in Mr. Paley, nor any other moralist 
that ever wrote, capable of convincing you that any such 
duty could in reality ever have existed. Religion is a 
good thing, and morality is a good thing ; but as in the 
first case we are not more religious for carrying our 
religion to enthusiasm, so neither in the second are we 
more moral for refining too far upon morality. Those 
duties which are real and substantial are sufficiently 
defined, and abundantly adequate to guide and direct us 
to the end which they propose, without our industriously 
framino" new ones which may be false, and must be 
superfluous. Yet I love you still better, my amiable 
friend, for acting as you have done under such an impres- 
sion, and no one could possibly have argued better in 
such a cause, or have acted more nobly and ingenuously. 
What an uneasy fate is mine, to be compelled to admire 
you in proportion to the pain you give me ! But I am 
sure, if you reflect on this subject again, you cannot 
retain the same opinion. You are as capable of judging 
for yourself as any human being can possibly be. You 
318 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

are equally entitled, and equally obligated, with every 
other human being, to act for yourself in those things 
which concern your own happiness, without participat- 
ing your design unless you deem it expedient. Our in- 
tercourse is at least very innocent, and may be very 
fortunate.' 

This mode of reasoning was, of course, rank heresy in 
1794; but the daughter's instinctive objection to deceiv- 
ing her father by carrying on a secret correspondence of 
which she knew that he would disapprove, at the same 
time that she was living under his roof in professed 
obedience to his laws, was swept away by her lover's 
fluent casuistry. In combating the lady's second scruple, 
Mr. Tweddell displays himself and his logic in a better 
light. 

' Your other objection is,' he admits, ' of more weight, 
and it is very well and properly stated by you. You 
conclude that by continuing our acquaintance for a 
certain period we should become more attached to each 
other ; and that if it should then be found absolutely 
necessary for us to break off all connection, we may thus 
be rendered very miserable. Here there is a question of 
your feelings and my own. As far as my own are 
concerned, you will allow me to judge for myself; I do not 
mean to let a warm heart check the reasoning of a cool 
head. I therefore deliheratelij protest to you that, so far 
as I consider myself, I am at this very moment arrived 
at that degree of affection for you that if our intercourse 
must cease, all periods are nearly alike to me. If you 
could only know what kind of affection that is, how 
little it partakes of any momentary turbulence, how 
little it resembles the flourish of a youthful fancy, 
you would never again believe that it may he founded 

319 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

on a trivial knowledge of your character. My regard for 
you is at once so strong and so delicate, so tempered and 
chastised by reflection and esteem, that if, knowing its 
nature, you could ever doubt either of its reason or con- 
tinuance, if you could persuade yourself of the possibility 
that any little increase it may yet admit, would make any 
material variation of distress, in case of its being inter- 
rupted, then my heart must, in your idea, be made of 
such perishable stuff, that you would do well without 
further thought to abandon it for ever, , . ."* 

After defending the suddenness of his passion on the 
grounds of his lady's surpassing qualities and merits, and 
assuring her that her manners, address, understanding, 
and principles, her mental and personal endowments of 
every kind, are a source of inexpressible delight to him, 
the writer proceeds : — 

' How comes it if you take me for such a paltry machine, 
as only fit to be acted upon by meaner influences, that 
I was never in love before ? You cannot know this, but 
as I assure you of it, you will believe me. I have certainly 
seen and intimately known many young women who had 
every charm that can flow from mere beauty, and from 
manners too — never, I confess, so pure and cultivated as 
yours — but yet pleasing and agreeable, and such as the 
world is content to flatter and admire. But the truth is, 
I am rather a critical and jealous observer of those things, 
and I always found some deficiency which either impaired 
the effect of exterior graces, or which exterior graces 
could not supply. But still I could mention some of these 
women who had a competent portion of sense and virtue. 
But they were not like you, and therefore I could not love 
them. Never till I saw you had I seen a woman into whose 
keeping I dared to confide my happiness ; and Nature 
320 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

is far too penurious of her good gifts that I should ever 
hope to meet again with one who resembles you. Do not 
then tell me again you were always surprised that I could 
so suddenly conceive so powerful a regard for you. We 
may be employed many days in detecting the excellences 
of Mr. West, but an hour is sufficient to display the 
merits of Sir Joshua Reynolds or Michael Angelo. I 
only wish to assure you by what I have said that my 
present affection for you is not produced by the "fervour 
of an ardent imagination," but that it really is such as 
you describe, that which you could wish the man you 
love to bear for you. . . .'' 

Having repeated that it is for his own happiness to 
continue the intimacy, end how it may, he concludes : 
' But I will say no more upon what I feel advisable for 
myself. As this is a question of your feelings as well as 
mine, it becomes me to consider yours ; and this con- 
sideration is, after all, the only one. It is impossible that 
I can here speak at all decisively. I can only reason of 
your feelings by analogy from my own. What is not 
analogy would be bare conjecture. In short, this part of 
the subject must remain with you. You only must 
determine for us both. If you have firmly persuaded 
yourself that your intimacy with me will render you 
miserable, that for the difficulties we may possibly have 
to encounter you shall receive no recompense in my 
continued friendship and affisction, you have then imposed 
an eternal silence upon me. My doom is sealed, for I 
cannot invade your peace. I may be convinced of the 
contrary, and may lament your hasty determination. 
But your happiness is as dear to me as my own, and if I 
cannot comfort, I will not torment you. No, my dearest 
love, you shall never be able to say that you have shed 
X 321 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

one tear for me that I might have prevented. If you are 
convinced that I shall make you unhappy, let us part for 
ever, God, I trust, will give me strength to bear up 
against all inevitable afflictions, and so to His benevolence 
I commit my hopes. ... If what I have said can make 
no impression on you, I must submit to despair. The 
advice you gave me was, " Consider well all I have said to 
you, and then tell me what you think advisable for us ; 
but let your opinion be the result of deliberation, and 
such as it becomes you to give and me to receive." That 
advice I have followed to the best of my ability — and so 
farewell. " Think of me as I am." Consider all my 
conduct, and approve of it, I beseech you, when you can. 
You will find that I have been oftentimes foolish, some- 
times inconsistent, and once, perhaps, rather petulant, in 
what I have on different occasions addressed to you. 
But remember how violently I have loved you ; and when 
you can find no other excuse for my weakness, attribute 
it to that. 

' Read once more what I have written to you at different 
times, and then •write to me. You have never read my letters 
more than once : I have read yours fifty times. If you 
forbid me to reply, depend upon it, I xcill not. Yet, lest 
anything very important should occur, tell me in that 
case how I should direct to you. But let me write to 
YOU if you can, and at all events torite to me in answer to 
this letter — and be minute, not distant and reserved. 
Recollect that upon your conduct depends the happiness 
of one who, however unworthy of your love, is not un- 
deserving of your pity. For he would now have been 
happy had he never met you. 

' And now I have only one more request to make of you, 
and that is, that you will never let us part, if we ever 
S22 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

must part, without a last interview. You promised me 
that we should meet in town, at a moment when, perhaps, 
you did not see quite so clearly the objections to our 
intercourse. Tell me when you mean to return to town, 
and promise that you will never agree to separate from 
me without a meeting. I hope you will grant more than 
this. But this you certainly will not deny me. My 
dear friend, do not break my heart if you can help it. 
God for ever bless you, and make ijou happy. J. T.' 



PART II 

Ix spite of Miss Gunning's doubts and scruples, the 
secret correspondence continued to flourish ; and after 
Mr. Tweddell's return to town he writes a long epistle, 
only by courtesy a love-letter, detailing his political 
opinions. It is evident that Isabella was afraid that her 
lover's 'views' would find as little favour in her father's 
eyes as his limited income. If John Tweddell had lived 
in these days he would have called himself a Radical; in 
1794 he seems to have been a more or less independent 
follower of Fox, that ' friend of the people ' who was 
widely regarded as the enemy of his country. The 
horrors of the French Revolution were still fresh in 
men's minds, and the words ' liberty 'and ' equality ' were 
thought to spell blood and anarchy. To the old- 
fashioned Tory, the man who held progressive views in 
politics, or on social questions, was the man who yearned 
to set up a guillotine at Charing Cross, and to line the 
streets with the heads of aristocrats. Hence Isabel writes 
to reassure herself on the subject of her lover's opinions, 
and to ask what part he would take should 'disturb- 
ainces ' arise. 

S2S 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

' My dear friend ' (he replies), ' I am delighted with 
your last letter. I cannot describe the satisfaction which 
I feel upon seeing more and more how closely and inti- 
mately our sentiments are allied upon almost all subjects. 
I would not reply so soon, having at present very insuffi- 
cient time to write at such length as I could wish, were it 
not that I believe it gives you pleasure to have the earliest 
assurance that your letter is destroyed. I can supply 
what I should wish to add in a day or two. For you and 
I, my best friend, will not observe the forms of exact 
reciprocity. Keep only in mind that the oftener I hear 
from you, the more happy I shall be. . . . Should my 
letters ever give you nearly the same pleasure, you will 
then have a sensation that will remind you more effectu- 
ally than anything else to converse with me constantly. 

' In this letter I will answer your questions respecting 
my political opinions. To represent these to you with 
every particularity in all their divisions and subdivisions, 
would be to write you a volume. Of course you expect 
me, by letter, merely to give you their general complexion, 
which I will do as fully and sincerely as you Avish. I need 
not prepare this avowal of my political faith by desiring 
you, as I should most others, to shun a habit very com- 
mon in these days, of imputing more than is confessed. 
People in general have no conception of an interval lying 
between extremes. This seems very absurd, but it is not 
the less true. It is naturally and easily to be explained. 
The nation is at present divided into two parties, each of 
which maintains with considerable vehemence the pro- 
priety of the part they are severally acting. The greater 
number of those who compose them both are either the 
slaves of interest or the creatures of prejudice. The con- 
duct of the former is readily accounted for; and it is 
324 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

a sufficient cause for the latter to be furiously addicted to 
either party, that they are ill disposed to consider, or 
incapable to appreciate, the merits of both. So soon, 
therefore, as any one avows sentiments in favour of 
liberty, for instance, it is immediately concluded that his 
opinions extend to the widest reach of the widest theory 
upon that subject. Should he approve of a uniform 
opposition to the present war, he is a Jacobin. Should he 
hazard an opinion that the French resources are in- 
exhaustible, he is a cut-throat, etc. etc. etc. But, above 
all, it is usual to confound speculative opinions with the 
intention of practical assertion — two things, in fact, as 
wide from each other as the polar distances, and yet most 
uniformly and intentionally substituted for each other. 

' I will not, I say, caution you against this habit of 
judgment in political matters. Your candour, in the 
first place, removes from me this necessity ; and, in the 
next place, your powers of reasonable and just distinction. 
You must not form your opinions upon what the BrWish 
Critic ^ says of my principles. All that it says about the 
introduction to my essay on Liberty is true, for it is 
a mere translation of it. But when it accuses me of 
going to the extent of Mr. Paine's principles, it is at 
least mistaken; and, if you observe, it does not point out 
the particular passage to which it alludes (I think it only 
mentions one such). The British Critic is professedly a 
ministerial review, and is not always very nice in its 
manner of condemning opposite opinions, being accus- 
tomed to deal in imputation more than refutation. I do 
not, however, accuse it of any injustice to me, except in 
that one assertion. The only violent passages that I 
recollect in my essay are against Burke and the partition 
^ In the review of his prize essays. 

325 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

of Poland. Neither can I call to mind any opinions 
which I there advanced that I could wish to retract now. 
I wish with all my heart that you could read it. I think 
it would not frighten you. 

' These are my general principles. I am, and shall, I 
trust, ever remain a most firm and zealous advocate for 
the enjoyment of as much liberty as the present imperfect 
state of the human mind can admit of, compatibly with 
good order. But I never carry any theory so far (tho' 
it is very common with reformers) as to exclude the con- 
sideration of that first principle of human infirmity. I 
believe most confidently that the state of society will 
improve ; and that as men grow more generally wise, and 
more equally informed, they will grow better, and that 
as they grow better the reins of coercion ought to be 
proportionately relaxed. But the time is not yet arrived 
when these principles can be followed to their fullest 
extent with safety. So, also, I prefer a republican form 
of government to a kingly. Even in the present state 
of things I prefer this, and so far I am certainly a re- 
publican. But then I make a material distinction between 
establishing a government de novo, and destroying one 
that is at present established, for the purpose of substi- 
tuting another in its place. I think it must be an 
extreme necessity that can justify the latter measure. If, 
therefore, I were to legislate for a country that is at 
present forming a government, as we lately did for 
Canada, I would unquestionably vote for a republican 
form ; but I would not agree to encounter a certain and 
present evil, thro' the medium of a favourite theory, 
for the sake of a precarious and distant good. In other 
words, I can never consent, with many speculists on 
government, to put out of the calculation all regard for 
326 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

the comfort and peace of the present generation. And 
so far I am not a republican. But all republicans are 
classed under one general denomination, while in effect, 
you see, their principles and objects are very distinct. 

' For my own part, I should be thoroughly content with 
such a reform in Parliament as might secure the people 
against the dangerous and increasing extent of the 
present corruption, which would give them the power 
of speaking their own sentiments, and thereby diminish 
the frequency of wars, that severest scourge with which 
offended heaven chastens the indulgence of criminal 
ambition. I would put it out of the power of any 
minister to bribe a representative to part with the money 
of his constituents for a share in the common plunder. 
No pensioner or placeman should sit in the house. 
Apparently, therefore, there would be no unworthy 
influence — and really there could be none when the 
election of parliaments was rendered so frequent as to 
make it impossible for any funds of corruption to be so 
extensive as to furnish bribes which must be constantly 
repeated every year, instead of one year in seven. I 
believe you will see nothing unreasonable in this ; and 
even if you did, I could not promise you any probability 
of change in my own sentiments. Those opinions which 
I now hold upon this subject seem to me so utterly 
undeniable, and not only so safe in practice, but so 
utterly unsafe to be neglected, that I feel it an absolute 
obligation incumbent upon me as an honest man to 
endeavour to realise them by all peaceable means in my 
power. ... 

' As to my party attachments, I can assure you that in 
the usual acceptation of the term I have none. I ap- 
prove of the sentiments of one party because they agree 

327 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

with my own, and so long I shall continue to approve 
of them. I do not deny that I have a personal attach- 
ment to certain members of that party — more particu- 
larly perhaps to Mr. Grey. I am acquainted with almost 
all the leading men in opposition, and I like many others 
of them. But be assured of this, that should they ever 
desert the principles on which I coincide with them, 
respecting reform more particularly, all my attachment 
is immediately gone. It is absolutely impossible for 
me, while I retain my present sentiments of right and 
wrong, ever to be unconditionally bound to any set of 
men upon the earth. So long as they continue that line 
of conduct which is honest and consistent, so long do I 
feel a regard for, and a common interest with, them — 
but no longer — not a minute. They have not, 7ior can 
they ever have, any inducements to hold out to me, 
should they think it worth their while to attempt it, 
possessing sufficient force to make me swerve from my 
present unalterable conviction. . . . 

' What you mean by taking an active pa?-t, perhaps I 
do not exactly understand. Do you mean the coming 
into Parliament ? If so, I will tell you the precise state 
of my mind upon that subject. There was a time when 
this was the first object of my ambition. I then feared 
it was unattainable. I knew very well that I should 
never be enabled by my hereditary fortune to afford to 
seat myself in the honourable house ; and I had not, at 
that time, formed any connection by whose means I 
might expect to arrive at it. Things now stand other- 
wise. I think it not improbable that such an offer may 
be made to me. But my ambition is greatly on the 
wane. It has been declining in proportion as the means 
of attaining it have advanced. I see more clearly every 
328 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

day of my life the folly of building happiness on such 
trifles as the sally of a successful speech — and the name 
of an orator. This supposes you succeed to your wishes. 
We all of us have a tolerably good opinion of ourselves, 
and we are often deceived by it. Suppose, on the other 
hand, a disappointment. What should I have gained ? 
The privilege of franking, and a silent vote. I would 
just as soon be a candle-snuffer. 

' But even counting very sanguinely on my hopes of 
success, as perhaps, to speak ingenuously to my best 
friend, I am too willing to do, yet even then I have lost 
much of my relish for such dainty food, and am more 
and more reconciling my palate to a more homely diet. 
I am not insensible to flattery, I know very well. Perhaps 
I have received it in too great abundance to be entirely 
unhurt by its poison. But I am sure of this, that at 
least it has not so far corrupted me as to make me 
insensible to my imperfections, which I daily feel, or to 
make me believe the sincerity of every one who speaks 
me fair. Besides, I really find that praise conduces very 
little to happiness. Who would consent to live amidst 
the tempests of the mountains to whom the valley offered 
tranquillity and peace ? ... In consequence of these 
feelings and some others, I doubt very much whether 
I would accept of a seat in Parliament, were it offered 
to me ; and in addition to that, I much doubt whether 
any man would be mightily inclined to offer it to me 
upon those conditions upon which alone I would accept 
it. I would not represent a borough without expressly 
stipulating for the permission to vote for the extinction 
of all boroughs whenever the question of reform should 
involve such a clause ; and no plan of reform would be 
worth a farthing without such an one. I would be at 

329 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

liberty to deviate as often and as widely as I pleased 
upon any question, just according to my own opinion in 
all cases, never considering the wishes or ideas of those 
who brought me in. In short, I would be entirely inde- 
pendent, for I never will be otherwise with my own 
consent. Now let me assure you that there are very few 
persons who would have the liberality to bring a man 
into Parliament upon such conditions. And I also 
assure you that I will never sit there on any other, if I 
should sit at all. But my mind at present is a good deal 
alienated from that kind of ambition, and the instance 
of any friend whom I loved might detach me entirely 
from all thought or intention of it. . . , 

' I will own to you, my dearest friend, that I had a good 
deal more ambition than I now feel, even so late as last 
July. I will confess that a great deal of my present 
indifference may very possibly be the result of some new 
feelings of which I was at that time ignorant. . . . 
You, my dear friend, have certainly had no incon- 
siderable share in reforming many things which were 
wrong in me. You cannot judge of this yourself, because 
you never saw me under the dominion of my worse habits. 
I am not afraid to confess this to you. You do not 
expect perfection in any one : I am far from it. I used 
to be peevish and petulant, apt to be suddenly provoked, 
and rather quarrelsome, irritable upon almost all subjects, 
and impatient of contradiction. To be sure, I was then 
very nervous ; and whatever struck rapidly and with 
surprise upon my bodily system, communicated a propor- 
tionable shock to my mind. But still I am nervous, 
tho"" in a far less degree, and still in a degree I am 
hasty and impetuous. I am sensible myself, however, 
and others have observed it to me, that I am much 
330 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEUDELL 

changed in this respect. My sister remarked to me when 
I was last at home. She said that till this last summer, 
tho"' she knew how tenderly I always loved her in my 
heart, yet that there was sometimes an air of severity and 
sharpness about me, which deterred her from consulting 
me so often and so confidentially as she could now do. 
My mother made the same observation to me, and was 
glad to see me more thoughtful and more mild. She 
attributed this change wholly to you, and said that, how- 
ever our intercourse might terminate, whether successfully 
or not, I should be the better man for it. If successfully, 
then that the same influence which operated upon me at 
that time would continue to operate. If unhappily, then 
that a certain captious spirit which arises from having 
"known no care and felt no sorrow" would be subdued 
and softened by disappointment. Indeed, my beloved 
friend, among the many obligations I owe to you, I must 
account this one. You have a secret influence over me, 
which, if I am about to relapse into a momentary im- 
patience, calls me back to my better reason by represent- 
ing how you would act, or what you would approve. I 
appeal to you more frequently than you imagine ; and 
tho' you know nothing about it, you either advise me so 
well, or reprove me so kindly, that I always seem to feel 
the salutary influence of an invisible director. God bless 
you, my best friend. I often regret that I am so little 
worthy to be your friend as I am. But it is, and shall 
be, my constant endeavour to become more so. 

' " May I be assured,'' you say, "that you will never take 
any active part unless it should become indispensably 
necessary ? " The only sense in which you can mean an 
active part is in the case of a disturbance in the country. 
Should such a disastrous event happen (which is, I fear, 

331 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

greatly within the bounds of possibility), I think every 
honest and conscientious man must feel himself dread- 
fully distressed as to the part he should take and the 
conduct he should pursue. It is impossible for both 
parties to be right, but it is very possible for both to be 
wrong, and, I fear, very probable too. In such a situa- 
tion it is very difficult to say how a good man would act. 
Circumstances must determine him. There is something 
to be said against total inactivity, were it possible, and 
perhaps it would not be. I am supposing that he is 
a single man, and that his own life and happiness alone 
can be affected by his conduct. In that case he must 
determine to act as his conscience may dictate and cir- 
cumstances demand, and the sooner perhaps that he and 
his life take leave of each other the better. At least I 
should feel so in sucli a situation, rather than be witness 
to many scenes enacted by both parties very grievous and 
afflicting. I persuade myself that there are so many things 
far more difficult to endure than the transition from life to 
death, — that I could, I hope, submit to the latter in many 
cases not only without compunction, but with joy. 

' Upon the whole, therefore, I think it impossible to 
say how siich a man would act. I, for one, should be most 
ardently desirous not to act at all, even in the case of 
being a single individual, as unconnected and insulated 
as is possible. But (for in my opinion the two situations 
are as opposite and distinct as they can be) were I a 
married man, and had I the happiness of another as well 
as my own in my keeping, there would not exist any in- 
ducement in nature, nor can I comprehend nor figure to 
myself those circumstances (bating always that case of 
indispensable necessity for which you provide) which 
could make me take any part, or side with any party. 
332 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

So far, I have no hesitation whatever in giving a most 
decided opinion and resolve. 

' Monday. — Since I wrote the above I have read your 
letter again and again, and think that I have not omitted 
to answer every question in such a way as you would 
wish. I am anxious to give you every satisfaction that 
you can wish upon all my sentiments, opinions, and 
actions, for I desire that you should know me thoroughly. 
When I left off writing to you yesterday, I was so much 
occupied with my subject that I neglected to dress for 
dinner till the very hour that I was engaged to dine at, 
and after dressing I had to drive to Hertford Street to 
Mr. Grey"'s. When I arrived there, the greater part of the 
dinner was removed from the table, a situation which of 
all others I feel embarrassing were I upon a ceremonious 
footing with my host. However, there was no com- 
pany — only himself, his wife, and a young sister of his, 
Mrs. Grey^ is surprisingly beautiful, very unaffected, and 
good-humoured. This is generally the extent of tlie 
judgment I can venture to pass upon an acquaintance of 
the few first hours. I have not always found it so. I 
am told she is clever, and I have reason to believe she is 
at least a sensible woman from the manner in which 
I have understood that she treated some previous pro- 
posals. They are remarkably attached to each other. I 
do not mention this as being very wonderful. But it is 
a good system, and to me also was a pleasant circum- 
stance, to find people who have not been very much 
accustomed to quiet and retirement seeking and finding- 
society in themselves. He lamented to me the necessity 
of attending to public affairs instead of to private. He 

1 Charles Grey (born in 1764) married in November 1794 a daughter 
of Mr. Brabazon Ponsonby, afterwards the first Lord Ponsonby. 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TAVEDDELL 

was obliged to prepare his motion of to-day as soOn as 
I left him, and was afraid, as he had neglected the con- 
sideration of it before, that he must sit up the greater 
part of the night. " I like not that sleepless honour that 
Sir Walter hath." 

' I have written you a very long letter, filled with 
a great deal of stuff, more calculated to give you ennui 
than pleasure. You will not thank me for it. But I am 
insensibly led on to pour out to you all things that occur 
to me, and just as they occur. . . . Everything more 
that I wish to say to you must be deferred. Write 
to me soon. You see I have never talked to you as if 
you were christened. Why should you be ashamed of 
your good name ? You say you are not used to it. What 
does your father call you ? I will not call you by any 
name that you do not like, and it may seem trifling in me 
to parley about the teryn of address as long as I have the 
delightful privilege of addressing you at all. But it is 
now long since you were Miss Gunning. Friend you 
certainly are, but then you are also a good deal more ; 
and I wish to approach you even in idea as nearly as 
I can. Now that we are on this subject of addressing 
one another, will you excuse me if I, in my turn, make a 
similar request of you — yet not very similar either — 
inasmuch as mine is about your not addressing me at all. 
I am only talking of an idea. But then half the comforts 
of life are composed of such light materials. Sometimes 
you begin your letters to me without using any vocative 
case. Use any that you please — but call me something. 
Your last had a kinder aspect to me — principally, I 
believe, tho' not entirely, I confess, from its forming 
an exception in that one particular to your frequent 
practice. Forgive me this trifling request, as it may 
334 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

appear to you. It does not appear so to me. God bless 
you, my very dear and excellent friend ; you can never 
know how sincerely I love you, nor how loth I am, even 
at the extremity of my paper, to break oif this imperfect 
sort of conversation with you.' 

Although a letter such as this ought to have softened 
Miss Gunning's heart, since no woman ever yet found 
letters too long or too frequent, it seems to have been still 
some time before ' dear friend ' became translated into 
' dearest Bel.' Unfortunately, Mr. Tweddell, so exact in 
other respects, had a bad habit of leaving his letters un- 
dated, and therefore it is only possible to guess at the 
order in which they were written. Possibly this may 
have been a measure of precaution, since in one only 
is the address given, and the signature seldom appears. 
The Stephen Digbys were evidently in the secret of the 
correspondence, as well as other friends or relations who 
helped to convey the letters from one lover to the other. 
Among the earlier epistles is one that describes in some 
detail the young man's early education and remarkable 
university career. 

' I am not uninterested myself, I assure you,' he begins, 
' in hoping and thinking that there are advantages in a 
reformed character. I have been as different from what 
I am now, at least, as you. When I first went to college, 
I was introduced to a set of pleasant agreeable men who 
lived in a very different way from any that I had been 
accustomed to. I had just left a private school in 
Yorkshire, and was perfectly ignorant of mankind and 
all its ways. I had never been introduced into society 
(a grand defect in education !), and, in short, knew 
nothing except a little Latin and Greek, of which I 
thought I knew a good deal, because I knew more than 

335 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

my companions. When, therefore, I arrived in college, 
what could be expected of me, young, with strong natural 
passions, and now for the first time master of myself? I 
attended to no academical discipline ; I never, or very 
seldom, frequented the hall, and more seldom the chapel. 
I dined out with a pack of what are called good fellows 
every day, and supped until very late hours as frequently. 
Luckily for my constitution, I was very soon affected with 
wine, which prevented me from taking such copious 
libations as most others. But then I was in such 
moments equal to any mad freak that the maddest fool 
could propose to me. I used to insult the proctors and 
officers of the University ; and this life I continued, 
regularly irregular, for the first year and a half of my 
academical career. 

' Some part of my foolish acquaintances (foolish only 
so far as they were guilty of the same extravagances, 
for many of them were men of much wit and talent) 
then left the University, and I had for the first time 
an interval of thought and leisure for reflection. I 
recollected that my friends had cherished hopes of my 
distinguishing myself at the University ; which, however, 
were sufficiently extravagant had they considered or known 
how much my old master had overrated the knowledge 
which I had gained from him. This consideration, acting 
upon a stock of ambition which, tho' long dormant, was 
yet very large, incited me to attempt to gain some one 
of the annual prizes which were just then proposed. I 
wrote for them all, after shutting myself close prisoner 
to my chambers for near two months, and, as it fell out, 
they were all adjudged to me.^ This, I confess to you, 

^ These were the three Brown Medals for Greek, Latin, and English 
Compositions. 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

flattered my vanity very considerably, more especially 
as I knew the University was well acquainted with the 
idle life I had led. From this period till the time of 
taking my first degree I was neither wholly dissipated 
nor wholly studious, but both, and sometimes both 
extremely. After spending one month in idleness, I 
would spend the succeeding one in severe study, and have 
frequently put off writing my prize exercises till within a 
few days of their required delivery, and then to complete 
them have sitten [sic] up for three nights successively. 
I tell you all my weaknesses. There was much affectation 
and vanity in this proceeding. I wished to be thought 
capable of doing that which no one can do — I mean 
attaining knowledge and the habit of composition 
without industry and application. I continued for a 
long time to be desirous of this reputation, and in some 
measure may say that I attained it. I possessed great 
vanity at bottom, but I did not appear vain to others, as 
I never presumed upon my different successes. 

' After the first four years of my college life had thus 
passed, I began to make progress in reason. But it was 
very gradually. I often recurred to my former wayward- 
ness, but every time with less avidity. I thought and 
read more ; I saw the glaring folly of my former conduct, 
and framed a plan of life, sober and rational, which, 
tho' I did not immediately pursue it with steadiness, 
I had frequently in my thoughts, and approached more 
nearly without quite arriving at it. I had always in the 
bottom of my heart the most correct ideas of moral 
subjects, and never departed from them without a secret 
compunction. I believed in religion, and never, or very 
rarely, ridiculed it in company, even when urged by 
thoughtless jesters. But this I did at that time, not 
Y 337 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

because I was convinced, but because my mother told me 
that I ought to he ; and at that time I was content to 
inherit my opinions, as it saved me the trouble of forming 
them for myself, (For it was not till within these two 
years that I inquired very accurately into the grounds of 
this subject.) There was an additional feeling that 
hastened my reformation. It may seem very trivial ; but 
I am sure that wheresoever it resides, it is a valuable 
possession, and is more connected with morals than people 
suppose. I had always a very quick and lively perception 
of natural and moral beauty. Any gross violation of 
taste, whether in language or in morals, affected me 
almost nervously. I could have wept at any time, even 
in the midst of my own dissipation, over a graceful 
display of moral excellence or literary beauty. In those 
moments, had I had any serious, well-judging friend at 
hand, he might have taken advantage of my passion to have 
wielded me to a wiser system. You will perhaps think 
that this was very silly and romantic. But I know that 
it has operated beneficially upon me by repeated and 
almost invisible influence. 

' Another feeling, again, in some degree connected with 
this was, that in spite of those libertine actions which I 
heard so constantly inculcated, and from which I do not 
pretend to have been entirely exempt, I always passion- 
ately adored the character of a virtuous woman ; and 
invariably contended that no happiness, no state of mind 
worthy of such a name, could possibly be enjoyed, if not 
principally derived from such an union. I used to be 
rallied for introducing some opinion of this kind into 
almost all my public compositions whenever I had the 
opportunity, and this remark you would also observe in 
the criticism upon my book in the British Critic. (By the 
338 



THE ROBIANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

way, what do you think of my essay on Happiness, as far 
as you can guess at the plan of it from that obscure and 
short analysis ? Do you agree with me ? I wish you could 
read it all through.) These thoughts and principles, 
which never at any time left me, returned upon me 
frequently at last, and united with the habits of reflection, 
which gradually increased as my mind gained strength 
and firmness, completed the entire mastery over my 
ridiculous follies and extravagances. I don't mean that 
I have none left — I believe otherwise. But I am sure 
they are different in their kind, and I hope and believe in 
their degree. . . . 

' I have given you, my dear friend, a very long, perhaps 
an uninteresting and tedious, certainly an unfavourable 
account of what I once was. I hope it will not injure me 
in your opinion so much even as it does in my own. But 
it was due to you. You have a right to know of what 
materials I was originally composed, and what new forms 
and changes I have undergone at different periods. I 
wish you to know me just as I am, " with all my imper- 
fections on my head." You see I have undergone a more 
necessary reformation than yourself, and that I have a 
great interest in wishing it to be believed that " some 
dependence may be placed upon an altered character." 
Tell me, do you think worse of me than you did ? 

' With regard to your studies, my dear friend, I hardly 
know what to advise ; I will think about it, and reply 
more largely another time. You have, if I do not 
miscount the rapidity with which you travel over a 
country, a great stock of general reading upon your 
hands. If a lady for whom I had no regard, and who 
was ignorant of my opinions upon female education, were 
to put such a question to me, as relates to the propriety, 

339 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

or rather the expediency, of learning Latin at your age, 
I do not know that I should be anxious to dissuade her 
from attempting it. She might conceive me a bigot to 
those narrow prejudices which would give a sex to mind, 
and narrow information to the men. But you already 
know that my sentiments are the reverse of this. But 
still, upon the whole, I cannot recommend you to lend 
your time to the acquisition of the Latin language. I 
wish you knew it at present, because I think you would 
derive great gratification from the authors who have 
written in it. But the time that you must devote to it 
before you can acquire a relish for its beauties frightens 
me. I think it would be too laborious an undertaking 
for you without a master. In short, I think it would not 
easily repay you the trouble of acquiring it in perfection, 
and to attain it superficially can hardly be your object. 
General reading will be much more useful to you, and so 
much more entertaining. Consider how many new ideas 
you might acquire in the time that you are only acquiring 
another and less customary mode of expressing them. 
However, if your desire is very ardent, I will talk it over 
more at length with you in another letter. I wish I 
could be always near you. I think I could teach it you in 
less time than most other persons could, not because I 
possess superior skill, but because I should more than 
supply any defect in that by the excess of my anxiety and 
attention to my dear pupil. If, in the bounty of your 
heart, you should think me not adequately repaid by the 
comforts of so sweet an intercourse, you could crown your 
generosity by teaching me German in exchange. 

' I don't think it argues a want of taste in you that 
you are not extravagantly fond of poetry. Coxcombs 
and fine ladies like nothing else. I should defer in some 
340 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

measure to them if they understood what they read. 
But as they do not, I confess that I like good prose better 
than bad verse, and good prose is much more common (I 
was going to say than bad verse, but I beg leave to 
retract) than good poetry. You have yourself mentioned 
the three poets I most particularly admire after Shake- 
speare — Milton, Pope, and Gray. When I say viost 
particularly, I must be obliged to substitute Dry den in 
the place of Gray, tho*" Gray ranks very high in my 
estimation. There is a poet now alive (it would be better 
perhaps for himself that he were dead, if later accounts be 
true), I mean Cowper, whom I admire extravagantly. 
He is vrnch underrated. His genius is most powerful in 
my opinion ; and I look upon him as standing in the 
very foremost ranks of our English bards. Did you ever 
read Bowles's sonnets ? ^ If not, I will give you a copy. 
I will give no opinion about them, but shall wait for 
yours. But do not tell me again that you " feel it 
arrogance to give one." Why should you talk so ? The 
opinion you have given me of the verses I sent you last 
is, according to my own judgment, most accurate and 
correct. You have enunciated the very objections 
which I was conscious they possessed when I made them. 
Did you know that they were mine? I used to indulge 
a foolish Muse very frequently some years ago ; and tho' 
I have not kept many of my productions, as none were 
worthy of being preserved, yet one or two I have, and 
will submit them to your criticism, which you will pass 
upon them with the same degree of just severity when 
they deserve it. Do not spare me, I beseech you. I am 
not like the Bishop in Gil Bias. I have really procured 

^ The Rev, William Bowles (1762-1850) published, in 1789, his Fourteen 
Sonnets y which met with an enthusiastic welcome from the critics. 

341 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

some of my early compositions for the sole purpose of 
laughing at the infinite nonsense uttered by an ill- 
favoured Muse in the pains of labour. . . Z 



PART III 

An interesting undated fragment, which gives some 
insight into the writer's views on the religious aspect of 
the French Revolution, and other matters, apparently 
belongs to the earlier letters. 

' Believe not,"" it begins, 'that the mind of man can 
long rest contented with the denial of a First Cause. The 
French in the midst of their insanity under Danton 
affected to abjure the existence of a God, and voted by 
acclamation the nullity of Providence. Did I therefore 
believe that the French were a nation of atheists ? By no 
means. It served the purpose both of our political and 
clerical ministers here to say so, in order to irritate us 
against such a prodigious solecism. But I must first be 
deprived of reason before I can believe the possibility of 
plucking the truisms of nature from the heart of man. 
From that black and baneful superstition which converted 
the Deity into the worser agent of the Manichean system, 
I do not wonder that all the thinking part of France 
revolted. Unhappilv, they recoiled with too great elasti- 
city, and reached, a part of them, the opposite extreme 
of infidelity. Certainly, the greater part of the Academi- 
cians were unbelievers. But I have no doubt that in 
a little time truth will be generally received, and the 
rational worship of a benevolent Deity substituted instead 
of the worship of the Pope. . . . 

' I am glad you are pleased with my promise about 
842 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

public meetings. You may depend that whatever promise 
I make, I keep. I am not, therefore, hasty in making 
them. I am just now reading a book upon morals, which 
declaims against promises, and the adherence to them, 
against gratitude and against that love which I bear you. 
You must read this some day or other — not that you may 
agree with the opinions (that is, not all) contained in 
it, but because it is a very able book, and has much truth 
mixed with much absurd paradox. The book is God- 
win"'s Political Justice} It is much talked of, and deserves 
to be talked of, and you should therefore be able to form 
your own opinion of its merits, upon which we will com- 
municate. Nothing hurts me more, as far as the con- 
sideration of weakness can hurt me, than to hear a person 
condemning a book which they have never read, perhaps 
cannot read, and probably cannot understand. Yet this 
is very common. They condemn by report, and a work 
is very frequently abused by a hundred men, whereof one 
only has read it. The rest judge, according to their yw,y^ 
competency, by hearsay. A lady was abusing a book the 
other day. I said, " As I suppose, madam, it is needless 
for me to inquire if you have read it, pray, which part 
is the most offensive to you?" "Read it! God forbid, 
sir, that I should have read it. I have heard too much 
of it to think of reading it." She could not have given 
a better reason for its attentive perusal. 

' So my squib amused you ! Oh, my dear Bel, how 
I wish I could make you feel more independent of the 
opinions of fools! To be free from the despotism of 
folly one must be a little hated. Why should I care 
what is said of me by Lord Delaval and his profligate 
gang ? I wonder at you sometimes. Why will you, as 
^ Published in 1793. 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

you sometimes do, put your liglit under a bushel ? Upon 
this very subject I could say much to you, but I have 
exceeded my time, and must walk very quickly with this 
to Burlington Street, whither I fear Mr. Digby may 
have gone before me. Expect a letter left at Lord 
Ilchester''s on Sunday, for I have said to you nothing of 
all that I meant to say. Now I know that I shall 
frighten you by enclosing a letter from Mr. Robinson, 
but I cannot help it if you will start at shadows. It is 
a very friendly and a very honest letter, and you shall 
tell me how far I may converse with him farther to 
remove his scruples about the introduction. But do not 
fail to preach me a sermon about the unfortunate 
notoriety of my political tenets. If you fail in this, 
you will disappoint me. I will reserve therefore my 
remarks upon this letter until I get yours. God bless 
you, my sweet friend. — Yours for ever and a day."* 

A letter dated February 17 (1795) gives a detailed 
account of a visit with Dr. Parr to the elder Ireland's, 
for the purpose of inspecting the ' Shakespearean ' docu- 
ments which his son professed to have discovered. 

' You have heard, no doubt, of the treasure that has 
been found relating to Shakespeare.^ I went on Monday 
with Dr. Parr to look at them, he being acquainted with 
the possessor of them, Mr. Ireland. I assure you, my 
dear Bel, they were a very rich repast. I have no doubt 
whatever of their authenticity. There is every internal 

^ The elder Ireland exhibited the documents at his house in Norfolk 
Street, and invited literary men to inspect them. On February 25, 
1795, Dr. Parr, Sir Isaac Heard, Pye the laureate, and sixteen other 
gentlemen, signed a paper testifying their belief in the genuineness of 
the 'finds.' Dr. Joseph Warton was another of the dupes. The fraud 
was not exposed until after the performance of Vortigern at Drury Lane 
in April 1796. 

344 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

evidence. They consist of an agreement between Shake- 
speare and Condel, the manager, to act at the rate of one 
pound one shilling a week — another agreement some time 
after for thirty shillings a week. A bargain between 
Shakespeare and some other person for a house and six 
acres of land. A curious letter from Shakespeare to one 
of his brother-players, containing a drawing by himself, 
enriched with various enigmatical devices. A confes- 
sion of his faith a few years before his death, concluding 
with a penitential prayer. There is also a love letter 
written by him at the age of sixteen to the lady who 
afterwards became his wife, containing a lock of his 
ambrosial hair, which is in great perfection, and tied 
in silken twist. For the same lady there is a valentine. 
A letter from himself to Lord Southampton, professing 
his gratitude in very fine and brilliant language, and 
Lord Southampton's answer, from which it appears 
that he had offered him dPSOOO (an immense sum 
in those days), but Shakespeare would only accept of 
ri^lOOO. There are some very divine conceptions in his 
profession of faith (from which, by the way, it appears he 
was not orthodox) and in the love letter. There is, 
moreover, a sketch of him in the character of Bassanio. 
The new play in :ms. [ Vortige7'n] and the ms. copy of King- 
Lear in his own handwriting I did not see, Mr. Ireland 
not having yet received them out of the country. I was 
delighted exceedingly, and wished at the time that you 
had been with me, as I always do whenever I feel any 
pleasure that is capable of participation. 

' Are you an enthusiast about Shakespeare ? The last 
time I passed through Stratford I visited carefully every 
place or thing that was hallowed by his residence or 
possession. I cut off a piece of the old chair which 

345 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

belonged to him — the seat of which was sold just before 
for thirty guineas. I bought very many gewgaws made 
out of a mulberry tree, which is reputed to be the same 
that he planted. Whether this is true or not, I cannot 
tell. But I know that my enthusiasm made me lay out 
more money than might have bought most mulberry 
trees in the kingdom. I have given all these fragments 
away, except a little box and a smelling-bottle, which I 
will give you. The carving is not very exquisite, but the 
smelling-bottle is carved the best, and I therefore reserved 
it for some one whom I should like better than any other 
person in the world. Is it not yours then, my dearest 
friend ? ' 

Bel having presumably got through the books that her 
lover had recommended to her in the autumn, he sends 
her another Gargantuan list, which includes Locke's 
Treatise on the Reasonableness of Christianity^ Dr. AVatts' 
On the Improvement of the Mind, the Abbe Condillac's 
Essay on Human Knozoledge, Bolingbroke''s Letters on 
History, Melmoth's Translation of the Essays of Tully, 
Hooker On Ecclesiastical Polity, Adam Smith On the 
Wealth of Nations, Beccaria On Crime, Cud worth's In- 
tellectual System, Priestley's Lectures on History, Hartley 
On Man, Bubb Dodington's Diary, Lord Chatham's 
Memoirs, and Paley's recently published Evidences of 
Christianity. ' By the way,' he adds, ' when I was last at 
Carlisle, I dined with Mr. Paley, and spent with him 
seven very pleasant and instructive hours. His manners 
are not very polished, a good deal like those of an old 
collegian.^ But his conversation is highly entertaining, 
and very much in the manner of his writings. . . . 

' I do not wonder that you have found so much 
^ Paley was then in his fifty-third year. 

346 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

difficulty in reading Locke, for we are naturally apt to 
measure the intellect of others by our own, and it was 
the case with me. I can give you, indeed, very little 
account of the great Essay at present ; for I would not 
have you imagine that the consciousness of little benefit 
from studies and the want of memory and attention are 
peculiar to yourself. They are common complaints with 
almost all persons who read a good deal, and I have at 
least as much occasion to make them as you can have. 
Few minds can retain all they read, and a great deal of 
what I have read has departed from me, leaving only the 
general impression. Thus am I frequently enabled to 
talk superficially upon books which I have once read 
and comprehended, tho' I afterwards have forgotten the 
greater part of what they contain. . . . 

'But I cannot bear that my dearest friend should talk 
of acquired knowledge as being of little advantage to a 
woman. This is a received prejudice which you should 
not humour ; and, believe me, much more than is sus- 
pected of the evil in society is derived from this very 
source. The education of your sex is grievously neglected, 
and it is a national calamity. Women must, from 
physical causes, have great influence upon men ; and were 
they more enlightened than their own contracted system- 
makers will permit them to be, they might wield that 
influence to the wisest and most beneficial purposes. 
But inveterate habit has made men slaves and women 
tyrants. Hence " bevies of fair women " are 

" Bred only and completed to the taste 
Of lustful appetence, to sing, to dance. 
To dress^ and troll tlie tongue, and roll the eye." — Milton. 

Ignorance in them is indeed rendered excusable, because 

347 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

it is admired by the men, who consider wives merely as 
domestics. But my idea of females is very different. 
Providence could never intend one-half of the species to 
be thus degraded at the lawless and imperious requisi- 
tion ' 

At this interesting point the fragment unfortunately 
breaks oft*, and we have no opportunity of learning any 
more of Mr. TweddelPs very modern and enlightened 
views upon the ' woman question." It has already become 
evident that ' Bel '' was not a little alarmed at the 
' advanced ' opinions of her lover. Her regard for him 
was perhaps already beginning to cool, but it is patheti- 
cally obvious that he was as faithfully devoted to her as 
at the opening of their correspondence. 

' You don't know,' he assures her in another long 
epistle, ' what a consolation it is to me that I have in 
you a friend to whom I can so confidently unbosom 
myself and pour out every feeling of my heart. Have I 
a thought which I could not with pleasure communicate 
to you ? Not one. Even my faults and weaknesses, past 
or present, I would not wish to conceal from you. I 
hope they never were very many, and that they are now 
much fewer than before. Had I had the good fortune of 
being sooner acquainted with you, some of them would 
certainly have been avoided, . . . 

' Consider this sometimes, my dear Bel, and above all 
at those times when you mention the sensations with 
which you reflect upon the formation of our friendship. 
The greatest pang that I could feel would be in the case 
of your ever expressing a wish that our intercourse had 
not commenced, be it on my account or your own. No, 
look if you can with regard and complacency upon that 
moment when we became friends. I believe that no 
348 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

disaster that can betide my ill-fated being shall ever 
make vie contemplate without pride and triumph, as well 
as without pleasure and satisfaction, an acquaintance far 
more precious than my life with all its other enjoyments. 
My blessed love, I feel how impossible it is to say what I 
feel upon this subject; add, therefore, to what you feel 
yourself all that may be inferred from my greater warmth 
of temper, from the circumstances of a first attachment, 
and from the advantage on my side of having in you 
more to love, venerate, and esteem. Recollect that the 
more susceptible of two hearts always bears the joys as 
well as the anxieties of both. . . . 

' By the way, I have always omitted to remark upon 
your observations on Mr. Robinson's letter to me. I did 
this intentionally ; you said you were shocked at his 
refusal to introduce me to his sister, a refusal which I 
could not find anywhere in that letter, and I was assured 
that he fully intended to introduce me the next time 
that I came to town, tho' we had no more conversation 
on the subject. You made no allowance for the banter 
of some of his expressions, such as unfortunate notoriety, 
etc., expressions such as he would never use to me in sober 
meaning. And you observed that you were the rather 
shocked as he was a liberal man, and " certainly not 
averse to the opinions which you profess." I think 
very well indeed of Mr. Robinson, and I do not think 
him so illiberal as many men with his sentiments are ; 
but as to his not being averse to my political opinions, 
I am amazed at your saying so. If you mean that once 
in his life he was a Foxite, I grant it ; but after that it 
became dangerous even to defend Mr. Fox. Besides, Mr. 
Robinson went into France, and when he returned seemed 
unable to separate his reprobation of the cruelties prac- 

349 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

tised at the time of the Revolution from a reprobation 
of the principles of the Revolution itself, and of the 
principles of its advocates, between which I humbly con- 
ceive there is no necessary connection, tho'' it has been 
very customary to make one. Hence, it became impossible 
for any one to wish well to France without being classed 
in the list of assassins. 

' You said also that it could not surely injure me in my 
own opinion to be thought moderate, and not to be 
attached to any party. Undoubtedly not. But to be 
thought moderate does not depend upon myself. To be 
so does, and that I am. Neither am I attached to any 
party. I am intimate with certain individuals of one 
party. But to the party itself I have no attachment 
whatever, as a party, nor ever can have, except so long 
and so far as they are attached to my principles. You 
were grieved to think that the notoriety of my conduct 
was such as to prevent a man, whose political principles 
were different from mine, from being acquainted with 
me. If this is the case, so am I — but I am grieved for 
that man, and not for myself. My political conduct 
never has been, and never will be, such as shall not con- 
vince any enlightened man that whether I be right or 
wrong, I act from principle. If he conceives that the 
mere difference of principle is a sufficient reason for 
shunning me, I am content, I pity him, and respect 
myself. For my own part, I know that I never yet saw 
that man whose opinions, however widely differing from 
my own, yet appearing to me to be honestly and sincerely 
professed, and himself in other respects such a man as 
I should like, — I never yet saw that man whom under 
such circumstances I should not regard just as much as 
tho' he agreed with me in every tittle, 
350 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

' You see, my dear Bel, I write to you upon anything 
that occurs to me, and am not afraid of wearying you, 
though T have said so much about myself. There is no 
way so good for becoming acquainted with everything 
that has relation to either of us. Act you in the same 
way towards me, and talk to me about yourself as much 
as you will ; I shall be more delighted than with any 
other subject. Let me know your thoughts as they rise 
naturally, and do not put off the expression of them till 
you know of an opportunity of writing to me. I am 
rejoiced to think that in a little time you will spend a 
month at Mrs. Digby's. I hope you will contrive to let 
me see a good deal of you. I am glad your dislike to 
London increases, and assure you that mine does; and 
I wish that you and I were together in the country, 
enjoying each other's society and conversation in peace 
and tranquillity, dans une maison simple et Men r^gUe^ ou 
regnent fordre, la paix, Vhrnocence ; oil Von voit reuni 
sans appareil, sans eclat, tout ce qui repond a la veritable 
destination de riiomme. 

' I have this moment received a letter from Mr. Digby. 
I had sent to ask him to dine with me on Tuesday, but 
I find that he is engaged to you. Alas ! alas ! my Bel, 
why is not this the same thing ? ' 

From the concluding paragraph it will appear that 
Miss Gunning was in town, but evidently the lovers had 
little or no opportunity of meeting, for the letter is 
continued under the date of ' Tuesday morning.*' 

' The most trifling thing that relates to you, my dear 
Bel, is not indifferent. I will therefore tell you that I 
sometimes observe with no small degree of surprise that 
you, who are so accurate and correct, and a great deal 

more than that in every other part of your writing 

351 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

[Here follows, it may be inferred, some criticism which has 
been carefully erased, probably by the recipient.] Again, 
if lam not mistaken, when you would denominate a Free- 
thinker, you call such an one an esprit fort^ not Sifort esprit. 
But I speak with submission. You understand French 
much better than I do. Besides, I do not even undertake 
to say that you were guilty of this mistake, if it is one, as 
you may rest assured that I have not the letter by me in 
which it was mentioned. 

' Now you will not think me either finical or fastidious 
for making these trifling remarks to you, will you, dear 
Bel .'' All you do appears so perfect to my eyes, that the 
slightest deviation from your general habits of correct- 
ness and elegance strikes me quicker than in any one else. 
In any other person I should have looked upon these 
little inaccuracies as things of course, and not worthy 
of mention. But the least soil is visible on a fair skin, 
while dirt escapes observation on the face of a mulatto. 
The great charm of your letters to me consists in their 
honest negligence, and the absence of all care and study, 
which is the base of friendly and familiar intercourse, so 
that your very mistakes originate in your excellences, 
and (will you tolerate for once a paradox ?) if you were 
more perfect you Avould be less so. . . . 

'I was a great rake last night. For the first time 
since you knew me, I went to a public place. And yet I 
think this would hardly have happened had not a friend 
of mine, who is gone to Bath for a few days, given me 
the charge of his wife, and a ticket for the opera concert. 
One dissipation leads to another. I met there Lady 
Shaftesbury, and she made me promise to wait upon her 
on Monday. I almost doubt whether I shall keep my 
engagement. I hate routs and cards and nonsense. I 
352 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

should not wish to meet you at any public place. I 
always thought so, and now I am convinced of it. That 
air of indifference kills me. How miserable I was after 
seeing you at Hastings"* trial ! ^ If my oion life had 
depended upon my showing indifference to you, I should 
have lost it. You hardly looked at me. But, my sweet 
Bel, don't think I am blaming you. Your father was 
very civil to me, and came up to me and shook hands, 
and I think if you had talked to me easily, I might have 
conversed a little. But I was quite chilled by my first 
approach to you, and no longer knew where I was, nor 
what I was doing. Good God, Bel, you have no con- 
ception how nervous I am on such occasions ! What 
must your father have thought at seeing that we did not 
talk to each other ? Either that we had forgotten our 
intimacy, or that we had improved it. Was it possible 
that he should think the first ? Ah, moji amie, le mauvais 
refuge pour nous qiCune assemhlee! Quel tourment de se 
voir, et de se contraindre ! Comment avoir fair tranquille 
avec tant d''emotion? Comment etre si indiffh-ent de soimeme? 
' God bless you, my dearest Bel, friend of my heart, and 
only comfort of my life. Write to me soon, I beg of 
you. I have often seen, my dear Bel, that you were 
much alarmed by the " Friends of the People." I have 
talked with you very little about politics. But I am con- 
vinced that there would not be much difference between us 
if I were to reason with you a few days upon the subject. 
That society, however, has certainly shown itself a very 
harmless one. It has done some good, but little. Harm- 
less, perhaps, was the word. I have sent you its different 
publications, which you may read and keep. But take 
care that Sir Robert does not see them lying negligently 
^ Hastings was acquitted by the House of Lords in April 1795. 

z 353 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

about, to create anarchy and confusion among his 
domestics, and to subvert the constitution of his family. 
. . . You see, Gray has behaved well about the Prince's 
debts. He told me some days ago that if that proposi- 
tion was made, he should oppose it.' 

Another letter, dated April 8th, is written in rather a 
desponding frame of mind. He writes, he says, merely 
because he must occupy himself about her, and it is less 
painful to write than to think. He has been debarred 
from reading in consequence of the illness of his best 
friend, to whom he was accustomed to communicate all 
his thoughts. 

' I have, of course, very many other acquaintances,' 
he continues, ' with whom I have lived both at the 
University and in London upon terms of the greatest 
intimacy. But to live always upon the same footing, it 
is necessary that if one party changes, the other should 
undergo an equal and similar alteration, and that their 
minds should receive simultaneous effect from the pro- 
gress of age and the external action of events. This can 
seldom happen ; the same causes cannot operate upon 
many in the same way. Some are more cold ; some are 
more worldly; interest predominates with the greater part, 
and whithersoever that leads, they must follow. Things 
assume gradually another aspect ; and what passed at 
eighteen for the warmth of generous sympathy, appears 
at five-and-twenty to have been the league of unmeaning 
merriment, or the alliance of mutual follies. We are 
amazed at such a bond of union ; and whether the one is 
stationary, while the other is progressive, or each advances 
in his journey of life in opposite directions, the habits are 
no longer analogous, the artificial junction is dissolved, 
and the minds of both parties are gladly released from 
354 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

an ill-assorted connection formed during the minority of 
intellect, and before the birth of judgment ! 

' You are very kind when you " hope to see me in the 
course of this month." Pray, contrive it so. It is near 
half a year since I saw you — and I have volumes to 
say to you. But let us meet at Mrs. Digby's. To see 
you in any other way just now would indeed give me 
great pleasure, but it would be mingled with much regret 
that I could be able to say so little to you. I was 
satisfied, my dearest friend, with the account you gave me 
of your health. When you go out in the carriage, drive 
into the Park, or out of London anywhere, rather than 
make calls. I can hardly tell why I have written this 
letter to you, as there is nothing in the combination 
of all its letters which can possibly give you pleasure. 
But I have appeared to spend a little time in conversing 
with you ; and tho' I have engrossed all the conversation 
myself (which is not my fault), you are yet in time to 
reply to me. Do so quickly, tho' I grant such a foolish 
scrawl hardly deserves that you should. But your 
generosity will not allow you merely to satisfy a legal 
claim. You do more ; and your creditor no sooner 
loses that character than he becomes your debtor. God 
bless you, my dear Bel, God Almighty bless you.' 

Only one more letter has been preserved besides the 
melancholy answer to the communication in which Bel 
broke off the connection (it could hardly be called an 
engagement), and at the same time very nearly broke 
the decorous, well-regulated heart of John Tweddell. In 
this last letter but one, he continues his literary discus- 
sions, and shows symptoms of a tendency to criticise his 
lady for shortcomings in the way of moral timidity, and 
an exaggerated deference to public opinion. 

355 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

' I shall send you along with this letter,' he writes, 
'Brand's Popular Antiquities^ — a book which I persuade 
myself will afford you both amusement and instruction . . . 
Formey's concise History ofPliilosopliy I shall send you in 
the same parcel. , . . Are you well acquainted with the 
history of late years ? It is important, very important, that 
you should be. The information of late date is generally 
collected in scraps and piecemeal from annual registers 
and such sort of miscellaneous collections. But I will, 
if you choose, lend you a set of books which shall give 
you in regular connection a history of England, and of 
other countries so far as they are connected with England, 
from the accession of George i. to the present time. 
There is also a book not long published which you must 
read — I mean Ramsay's History of the American Revolu- 
tion. I have it, and you shall, therefore, have it from me. 

' I wish, my dearest friend, that I could always assist at 
your studies. It would be one of the greatest pleasures 
of my life to be appealed to by you on any subject ; 
and sometimes, perhaps, it might not be wholly useless 
to yourself, as when I could not immediately solve a 
difficulty, as would frequently happen, yet the desire of 
satisfying you would supply all that energy and applica- 
tion and inquiry which might be finally victorious. In 
good truth, I wish to find myself in a new situation 
respecting you. I wish to be able to converse with you 
on calmer topics than I have yet been allowed to do by 
the shortness of the time in which I have enjoyed your 
society. You would find that I can reason far more 
coolly than I can love. But those temperate moments 
are among those prayers to which heaven lends no ear. 
A large majority of mankind are putting up daily 
1 Published in 1777. 

356 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

petitions for riches and distinction ; they pursue with 
a mad zeal all that is unreasonable ; and are, if their 
exertions correspond with their desires, for the most 
part gratified. I have only one wish — a little and a 
rational wish. I covet neither wealth, nor honour, nor 
distinction. My happiness is all centred in social and 
unambitious retirement, in the attachment and posses- 
sion of one only friend, to whom I might impart all 
that I should feel or know, and in whose gentle bosom 
deposit all my thoughts and sentiments. . . . 

' But I will not weary you, my best friend, with repeti- 
tions of what you know already. Yet you must also 
know that it is difficult to be on the verge of such a 
subject which embraces in it all that affects me most 
sensibly and vitally, and not to enter upon it. Give me 
all the comfort you can by writing to me. That soothes 
my mind and makes it for the time feel happy ; which, 
I assure you, few other things do. How long do you 
mean to stay in town.'' Has your father determined 
whether he will go to Harrogate in the summer ? Pray, 
do not you go. Then, wherever else you may go, it is 
possible for me to see you. I wish Sir Robert would go 
to Harrogate and leave you at Mr. Digby's; what a 
blessed event that would be ! I wish you could contrive 
it so. Mr. Digby lent me a book which you, I dare say, 
have read at the Lodge. The title is Original Love- 
Letters} I read it last night. The letters are well 
written, and I do not believe them to be fictitious ; at 
least, they are not written by one and the same pen. 
The lady's are incomparably the best. In his there are 

^ During the period of his widowhood Colonel Digby had read aloud 
these Original Love-Letters to Miss Burney, and discussed them with her 
(see her Diary). 

357 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

sometimes good remarks, but there is no ease. There is a 
pedantic constraint that alienates and disgusts. In short, 
her mind is very superior to his in my opinion. His visions 
and descriptions are pedantry and bombast. But her style 
is easy, and her remarks natural, and her sentiments beauti- 
ful. What is your opinion ? Do you not agree with me "^ 
' The mention of agreement brings me to the recollec- 
tion of an opinion of yours Avhich I do not quite assent 
to. Certainly it is most desirable that the minds of two 
persons who are married should be generally conformable 
to each other. But I think the kindness of your heart 
seems disposed to carry that conformity too far. From 
some little conversation which I once had Avith you on 
this subject, I suspect that you would sometimes resign 
your opinion without conviction, and adopt rather too 
implicitly the opinion of your husband. I know it is not 
customary to give this advice to a woman, and perhaps 
it is not very advisable without taking into consideration 
the temper of him whom she is to live with. You know 
my opinion upon the manner in which the stronger sex 
conducts itself towards the weaker. Men are tyrants, by 
usurpation indeed, but by consent also. They are dis- 
posed to exact rigid obedience where they should use 
entreaty. And, therefore, such being unfortunately the 
case, if a w^oman is to be united with a man who expects 
an unlimited and unqualified compliance with his com- 
mands, it is happy for her if her temper has been pre- 
pared by education and expectation to conform implicitly 
to this established barbarism. But in speaking for my- 
self, I confess to you I should be better pleased if you 
(for why should I make a general hypothesis ? I cannot 
bear it), — if you, my dearest friend, should occasionally 
dissent from me, and preserve your own opinion, till you 
358 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

were convinced that mine was the better. Do not imagine 
me so wayward as to wish for any dissent at all, even in 
the most trifling occasion. But as it is impossible that 
two persons should invariably think exactly the same on 
everything in the zoorld, however they may generally, and 
in the constitution of their minds, resemble each other, 
I should therefore be somewhat jealous of a constant and 
uniform assent in every particular. It would seem to me 
to imply a sort of distrust of my temper or affection, lest 
either the latter should be diminished or the former 
ruffled by an accidental difference of opinion. In the 
case of such a difference, why should not you be as right 
as I .^ I have no idea, my dear friend, how two persons 
living together in the most intimate of all conditions, 
loving each other sincerely, and possessing good under- 
standings, good tempers, and good dispositions, can 
possibly differ upon any material question. Even now, 
I do not think that you could mention to me any opinion 
of your own which would not either have the effect of 
convincing me, or else that my opposite opinion would 
not produce such an effect upon you. We should argue 
with candour for the sake of truth, and for the desire of 
conviction ; and I will not believe that two such persons 
meeting with such propensities, and possessing nearly an 
equal comprehension and an equal intelligence upon the 
subject, could possibly withhold the one from the other 
their assent and agreement. You see, therefore, that I 
only considered before the case of an immediate and 
uninquiring assent without, or previous to investigation. 
Believe me, that the powers of the mind, and the excel- 
lence of it also, are much injured and impaired by the 
loss of its independence. I am far from wishing you, as 
you know, to think too highly of yourself, but I would 

359 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

not have you to disparage that intellect which is worthy 
even of your own respect. It was implanted in you to 
guide you. Why should you make a surrender of its 
energies ? A certain confidence in yourself is good ; I 
have no occasion to warn you against too much, 

' I could have expressed all I have said much more fitly 
in conversing with you, but we so rarely meet that I 
cannot reserve everything for conversation. In writing 
I am always afraid of saying either too much or too 
little. In conversation that may immediately be cor- 
rected if a wrong impression is conveyed. But I think 
you will understand me exactly. I am afraid I have not 
always been strictly intelligible. In the short note 
which you last wrote to me, I perceived that you had 
written the following sentence, tho' you afterwards struck 
your pen through it : " You afflict me when you talk of 
the gradation between perfect right and wrong being so 
delicate and fine as to be hardly perceptible." I think, 
ray friend, you do not quote me very accurately in a part 
where a slight variation of words makes a material differ- 
ence in the sense. I do not exactly remember my words, 
but I recollect perfectly the idea. I meant to say that I 
was afraid sometimes of expressing my disapprobation of 
any observation of yours, lest by not conveying it in terms 
sufficiently precise and definite I might appear to con- 
demn in toto that which I only doubted of, or differed 
from in degree ; that in questions simply of degree the 
shades of right and wrong seemed sometimes to approach 
each other, in the same manner as the excess of any par- 
ticular virtue might be neighbour to some kindred vice. 
This I recollect to have been my meaning. How I 
expressed or applied it I cannot tell. 

' I must some day talk with you upon the habits of 
360 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

thinking, which make you so trevihlingly alive to the 
opinion of the world. There is a proper deference due to 
it. But to be the slave of its capricious awards, and 
blindly led by it, especially upon subjects which affect 
your happiness in any degree, I cannot but call a great 
weakness. Indeed, my dear friend, your mind ought to 
be superior to it. You see, if you will challenge me to 
find fault with you, I can do it. If you say that the 
things I have objected to are of little importance, and 
not worthy to be urged, that is not my blame. If I 
knew of anything that was worse, I would not spare you. 
I wish very much to talk with you upon these and some 
other subjects. There are one or two questions which 
I could wish you to answer me. But as I am not sure 
whether you would choose to reply to them, I will not, by 
putting them, run the risk of a refusal. I could gain the 
information I want thro' another channel, but I will not, 
except from you. It is principally a motive of curiosity 
which urges me to wish for this intelligence ; but nothing 
that relates to you can possibly be indifferent to me. 
Remove, indeed, such subjects of inquiry as these, and 
you would at present put an end to almost all my pur- 
suits. Investigation with me is nearly asleep on all other 
subjects. I do nothing when I do not think of you; and 
look upon myself to have lost so much of every day as 
your image has not occupied. Upon this head, however, 
I have very little to tax myself withal. If to lose sight 
of you be to furnish myself with an occasion of reproach, 
I shall not so endanger the quiet of my conscience. 

' I was to have gone with Charles Grey on Friday to 
visit the prophet.^ Unfortunately he was taken up the 

^ Samuel Brothers, an ex-naval officer, who believed himself a 
descendant of the House of David, and announced that on November 

361 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

day before. So that an experiment we had meant to 
make on him was left unattempted. He says Grey is 
descended from the Hebrews, and therefore, like all the 
rest of that generation, makes him (Mr. Brothers) an un- 
conscious obeisance when he passes him. By this token he 
says he knows Grey. Now we were in hopes that Brothers 
would have been unable to recognise him when we waited 
upon him. But the man is, I believe, quite mad. 

' I was out of bed this morning before half-past six 
o'^clock, and went to enjoy les reveries d\me jyromenade 
solitaire in the park. I walked from Spring Gardens 
thro' the Queen's and Hyde Park as far as Kensington, 
and returned to breakfast at a quarter after eight. It 
was one of the most delicious mornings I ever beheld, 
and calculated to excite all the benevolence of a heart 
that rejoices in the display of natural beauty. Certainly, 
there is a fine moral feeling that diffuses itself thro' 
the frame of man when he contemplates the softer 
embellishments of the material system. That man has 
no soul who can walk indifferent and unmoved amidst 
the gorgeous scenery of luxuriant nature, who cannot 
descend to communicate with the objects of sense, or 
find incitements to virtue and dissuasions from vice in 
tracing the progress of vegetation. All these things 
have great effect upon me. I feel myself improved by 
considering them. My soul seems almost stripped of 
"this muddy vesture of decay," and to partake for the 
moment of a superior intelligence. This, my dear 
friend, is not romance ; it is the effort of our purest 

^9) 1795) ^is would be revealed as Prince of the Hebrews and Ruler of 
the World. He was arrested on March 4, 1795, for treasonable practices, 
was defended in the House of Commons by Mr. Halhed, and finally 
placed in a lunatic asylum. 

362 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

reason; it is a struggle to get rid of our earthly encum- 
brances; it is a virtuous feeling, flowing from a quick 
susceptibility of the beauty and the goodness of God's 
works. Do you never feel this, my beloved friend ? If 
you do, good and kind as you are at all moments, yet in 
such as these you feel some more than ordinary inclina- 
tion, some loftier and more sublime propensities, to 
relieve distress, to comfort the afflicted, and to diffuse 
far and wide, without distinction and without limit, the 
blessings and the benefits of heavenly charity. Oh, my 
dearest friend, what would I not have given to have 
had you with me this morning ! Farewell. Write and 
comfort me,'' 

PART IV 

The last letter of the series is dated May 23rd, and 
tells its own melancholy story. From it may be gathered 
the reasons given by Bel for putting an end to the 
correspondence. 

' My dear Friend [it runs], — 

' I could give you a world of reasons why I have not 
yet answered your last letter. But it is of little use 
to mention them. Neither shall I attemjjt to make you 
conceive the severe affliction which I have suffered, and 
yet suffer. My sorrows only concern myself, and I feel 
them too acutely to affect to describe them. I confess 
that I was surprised — I was not quite prepared ; for I 
did not perceive the necessity for making me miserable. 
Yet as you mean me well, I must be grateful for your 
kindness, tho' it is associated with death. Once in 
my life I have been made uncomfortable, and once 
beyond measure wretched, by two persons who chose to 
consult my happiness, not hy my idea of it, hut by theirs. 

363 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

My father has for many years made me uncomfortable, 
because he foresaw that it was essential to my comfort to 
be a great lawyer. Another person, in whose hands was 
every hope and every wish of my life, is destroying those 
hopes and wishes with one blow, because she hnows it is 
expedient for my happiness to lose all that can make me 
happy. It is true, my own ideas are very contrary — as 
opposite as the two poles. But where I am not con- 
sulted, I can have no voice, and therefore submit, not 
indeed with satisfaction, not by conviction, not from 
reason, but by necessity and thro"" force. He who lies 
bleeding at the mercy of another may die without 
struggling, be he ever so reluctant to part with life. I 
have too much reason to fear that this is my case. Your 
letter is not written in the spirit of conference, but of 
decision. My own happiness is professedly the question. 
Yet it does not advise with me, but determines. In that 
case, what part can I take ? I have no choice. You 
must, therefore, my friend, act as you please. You will 
always act as you believe right — of that I have no doubt. 
As for me, it is quite another consideration. You have 
only to act. It is I who must feel the consequences for 
ever. Your part is simple and quickly taken. Mine is 
the sad remembrance and long regret. 

' How little did I think when I wrote you that last 
letter, which, it seems, determined you to think of so 
hasty a resolution, — how little did I dream of the effect 
it was to produce. You had previously expressed your 
concern at my uneasiness. I wrote to assure you that so 
far from being uneasy at our connection, it was my only 
pleasure. This still more convinced you that I was 
unhappy. I wish to God that I had never written that 
letter ; but I could not possibly foresee that you would 
364 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

understand it in such a light. There were expressions of 
affection in it that you did not like. I do not recollect in 
particular what these were. It is perhaps unfortunate 
that I love you so tenderly. But I cannot help it, and 
sometimes I cannot avoid saying so. Have you no motive 
to forgive this ? Surely you should not make me miserable 
because my expressions discover that I wish you happy. 

'One or two of your sentiments that I have lately 
guessed at have taught me to suspect that since you have 
known me more, you have liked me less. You may not 
be aware of this, and perhaps you will tell me so. But I 
feel that it is so, tho' I cannot prove it. If you could 
read my mind, you would know my reasons. But they 
would appear ridiculous on paper. 

' I do not wish to say much upon this unfortunate 
subject. My heart is too full to utter what is intelligible ; 
and since your thoughts upon the letter that I last wrote 
to Mr. Digby have been known to me, I despair of saying 
anything which may be any more persuasive to you. I 
regret mightily that you saw that letter, /or more reasons 
than one. I forgot to desire Mr. Digby not to show it 
to you. I could have said a great deal more in favour 
of what I then proposed. But I perceive you are not 
likely to listen to what I might then have added, and 
my heart is so exhausted that it cannot waste itself in 
expressing what it foresees to be ineffectual. You were 
grieved, you said, at thinking how uneasy your illness 
would make me. Would my friend Losh have been justi- 
fied in loosening our intimacy merely because I discovered 
my anxiety by attending him every day at Hampstead .? 

' No, my dear Bel, if you seek to reduce and cool my 
affections till they cease to feel pain when the object of 
them is in danger, you must model me anew. If I am to 

365 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

be punished, first by the suffering of my friends, and then 
for having sympathised with them, I shall not long 
experience such double chastisement. A heart like this 
cannot long endure it. In short, I can say nothing. I 
know not what to ask of you, because I know not what 
you may not refuse. If you think proper to allow me to 
spend a few days with you at the Park, and to talk with 
you seriously upon all these things, I need not say 
whether that will give me pleasure. But tell me first 
whether you are resolved upon acting wholly from your- 
self, or would listen also to me. I would not willingly 
tease you, if you are forearmed against all I may say, 
and that my reasoning is all to no purpose. As for 
seeing you for a few hours, this would in my present 
state only agitate without relieving. I have too much 
to say to you to say it in one breath, scattered as are all 
my ideas, and confused and tumultuous as are all my 
feelings. I could observe upon your letter at great 
length. But the time is passed away when I found 
happiness in lengthening my letters to you! Be not 
ano-ry at anything I may have said — I hardly know what 
I have said — ce pauvre cosur a tant aimc. God bless you. 
May you be happy.' 

There is no evidence to prove that the lovers ever met 
or corresponded again. In the following October Miss 
Gunnino- married General Alexander Ross, best known 
as the friend and aide-de-camp of Lord Cornwallis. 
General Ross, who Avas then in his fifty-fourth year, had 
been appointed Surveyor-General of the Ordnance in 
June, 1795. In September John Tweddell went abroad 
for an indefinite period, avowedly with the object of 
studying men and manners in order to qualify himself 
for a diplomatic career. His letters from the Continent, 
366 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

which were published in his Literary Remains, contain 
little that would interest a modern reader, since they 
deal for the most part with regions now familiar to every 
tourist. A few short extracts, however, may be worth 
quoting, as illustrating the acquaintances he formed with 
several of the distinguished French emigres who then 
found an asylum in Germany or Russia. 

Mr. TweddelPs first stay was at Hamburg, where he 
remained about four months in order to study German 
and perfect himself in French. His letters of introduc- 
tion admitted him into the best society of the place, 
and here he became acquainted with Madame de Flahault 
(1761-1836), author of Adele de Senauge and other 
romances ; M. de Souza, the Portuguese minister, whom 
she afterwards married ; Madame de Genlis, Madame de 
la Rochefoucault, the young Duke of Orleans, Louis 
Philippe, that political cleric the Abbe Montesquiou, 
and the Comte de Rivarol,^ once among the brightest 
stars of French society, and now condemned to hide 
their brilliancy in the remote Northern town. Most of 
TweddelFs letters are addressed to his own family ; but 
among his other correspondents were Mr. Digby (whose 
wife had died on May 25th), an early friend, Mr, James 
Losh, and a Mrs. Ward. In writing to the last-named 
lady he assures her that he cares little for the news of the 
day, since from births he has nothing to hope, and from 
deaths he has everything to fear, while ' with marriages I 
have no concern. Only this I know, that for the most 
part they are ill-assorted, and that those which promise 
happiness are generally broken, together with the hearts 
of those whose hopes are disappointed. . . . Some of my 

^ Author of the famous Petii Almanack des Gra7ids Hommes and other 
works. 

367 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

recollections are of the painful sort, as you know. I, 
however, do everything in the world to give myself 
spirits. But I am not always the same. Madame de 
Flahault says in a letter which she has given me to her 
niece, the Marquise de Nadaillac, at Berlin : " II est un 
peu melancolique. Je Tai assure que si ses chagrins 
venoient de quelques souvenirs heureux, ou trop in- 
fortunes, mais chers encore, votre amabilite lui feroit 
oublier toutes les femmes de son pays." ' 

At Berlin, where Tweddell arrived about the end of 
January, 1796, he was cordially received by our Envoy 
Extraordinary, Lord Elgin, and presented at Court, 
where he had long and serious conversations with the 
Prince Royal, afterwards Frederic William in., on poli- 
tical matters. ' Royalty has been extremely civil to me," 
he says in a letter to his father. ' Last Sunday night, at 
the Queen's, one of the Princes engaged the lady whom 
I meant to have danced with, and I was for a moment 
without a partner. The Princess Royal ^ asked me why 
I did not dance ; and upon telling her the circumstance, 
asked me to dance with her. You see to what honours a 
traveller may advance ! She is really a charming woman, 
much the handsomest in Berlin. Who would have said 
last year at this time that I should now be dancing every 
other night at a Court, and playing cards two or three 
times a week at a minister of state's ? After such a 
revolution, you need not be astonished if I should be 
converted into a courtier and a rascal. I assure you, the 
two characters travel well together in this country. 
Profligacy overflows in every way, politically and physi- 
cally, in public and in private life ; the virtue of the 
women and the poverty of the men are well matched.' 
^ Afterward Queen Louise of Prussia. 

368 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

His chief friend among the women was the Marquise 
de Nadaillac. In a letter to Mr. Losh, dated Dresden, 
March 24, he says: 'I have left at Berlin an acquaintance 
that I regret very much, the Marquise de Nadaillac. She 
is really an excellent woman, extremely instructed, full 
of esprit^ and esprit of a much higher cast than what is 
usually called by that name. She converses better than 
any person I ever saw, I think without exception. [He had 
said much the same of Bel a year before.] At first, seeing 
her only at Court, and in large societies, I did not par- 
ticularly admire in her anything but her style of talking ; 
she seemed quite a coquette, as I often told her after- 
wards. But upon knowing her more and more intimately, 
I was very much pleased with her. She has a greater 
stock of real virtues than one can easily conceive. She 
is an ^migree^ and therefore has prejudices. Sometimes 
we almost quarrelled about politics, and sometimes about 
religion. . . . Since I left you I have talked with no one 
so intimately upon what relates to myself. The people 
of Berlin talked very confidently of a relation between us 
of a different nature, which was not true, friendship alone 
being our bond of union ; but that their manners did not 
allow them to comprehend. Plato did not publish his 
system at the Berlin press ; besides that, Platonism is not 
very common between a young man of twenty-six and a 
young and interesting widow of twenty-seven.' 

At Vienna, which was reached on April 6, Tweddell 
had letters from Madame de Nadaillac to her friend the 
Duchesse de Guiche, daughter of the Due de Polignac,^ 
with whom he quickly became on terms of intimacy. 
' The family which has chiefly contributed to my enter- 

^ The Duchesse de Polignac, the favourite of Marie Antoinette, had died 
at Vienna in 1793, shortly after the execution of her royal mistress. 

2 A 369 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

tainment and interest at this place,' he writes, ' is that 
of the Duke of Polignac and the Duchesse de Guiche, his 
daughter, which is literally the pleasantest family I ever 
was acquainted with. They were, as you well know, the 
first family at the Court of France, and their very delight- 
ful manners and interesting society have chiefly contri- 
buted to render this place pleasant to nie ; I spend some 
part of every evening with them."* Another new acquaint- 
ance was that literary and military genius the Prince 
de Eigne, who was pronounced by no less an authority 
than Madame de Stael to be the most brilliant talker in 
Europe. 

After a short stay at Munich, Tweddell passed several 
weeks in Switzerland, where he visited many regions 
then unfamiliar, and is said to have prepared an account 
of his tour for publication. He was not much attracted 
by what he saw of Swiss society, except that of Lausanne, 
where he was fortunate enough to make the acquaintance 
of M. Necker and Madame de Stael, who invited him to 
stay at Copet. To his mother he writes from the Castle 
of Copet on November 9, 1796 : — 

' My visit here has been highly agreeable. We have 
had a very small party in the house — a Madame de Rillet, 
M. Michel de Chateaurieux, and M. and Madame de 
Stael. Necker talked to me a great deal, and with much 
interest, about England. Upon France he said less, and 
wished in general to avoid the subject. He is generally 
thoughtful and silent, but I have had the good fortune 
to contribute to his amusement by recounting to him 
different circumstances in our political affairs ; so that 
Madame de Stael tells me she has never seen him for 
many years so much interested, and so abstracted from 
himself and his own thoughts. He was anxious that I 
370 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

should give him an idea of the different manners of 
style and oratory of the first speakers in our House of 
Commons. As I recollected speeches of almost all of 
them, and possess in some degree the base faculty of 
mimicry, without being, I hope, a mimic, I repeated 
to him different speeches of Pitt, Fox, Sheridan, and 
Dundas in their respective manners. He understands 
English perfectly well, and you cannot conceive how 
much he was delighted with this. He desired me to go 
over them again ; and almost every day Ave have passed 
several hours on similar topics. . . . Madame de StaeP 
is a most surprising personage. She has more wit than 
any man or woman I ever saw ; she is plain, and has no 
good feature but her eyes ; and yet she contrives by her 
astonishing powers of speech to talk herself into the 
possession of a figure that is not disagreeable.'' 

From Switzerland the traveller returned to Vienna, 
where he had intended to spend the winter. Here, 
however, he found a letter awaiting him from the Due 
de Polignac, which changed all his plans. The Duke, 
who had gone with his family to settle in Poland, 
explained that his OAvn house was not yet habitable ; but 
that among his neighbours was the Countess Potozka, 
who was accustomed to invite such distinguished persons 
as she thought would be an addition to her circle to 
spend the Avinter at her house, and having heard much 
of Mr. TAveddell (from the Polignacs), she noAv invited 
him to stay with her for three months. This invitation 
TAveddell thought too good to be refused. ' I shall see 
new people and a new style of living,"' he Avrites to his 
family, 'For the great houses in Poland, such as the 

^ Madame de Stael was then thirty years of age, and had just published 
the most important of her earlier works, De P Influence des Passions. 

371 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

Countess Potozka's, are conducted upon a footing quite 
different from those of other countries ; it is a sort of 
palace in which you have your own apartment perfectly 
independent. She has officers to preside over the different 
provinces of her household in the same manner as in a 
little court. She was particularly connected with the 
late Empress Catherine, and her fortunes were therefore 
not affected in the division of Poland.' 

The journey from Vienna to Tulczyn in the Ukraine 
was not a pleasant undertaking in mid-winter. ' My 
journey hither,"" he writes just after his arrival, on 
January 8, 1797, ' was full of accidents. I travelled 
almost every night, and yet was eighteen days on the 
road. During the snows I was lost several nights in the 
Ukraine, and one night was overturned in a very un- 
pleasant manner. The carriage fell from a considerable 
height. I did not, however, suffer much ; my head and 
one of my legs were bruised, and I have still headaches. 
The Countess has a very princely establishment indeed, 
about a hundred and fifty persons daily in family. The 
Marshal Suvarrow and a very great number of his officers 
occupy one wing of the palace, which is a very large and 
magnificent building. I have an apartment of three 
rooms to myself. The family never muster before dinner- 
time. Each person orders breakfast in his own apart- 
ment, and has all the morning to himself; this is very 
convenient. The Countess sends a servant to me every 
morning to know if I want anything, and to ask at what 
hour I choose to ride out. I have a carriage and four 
horses whenever I please. . . . The Due de Polignac's 
house is at a distance of half an hour's drive; I go 
thither upon a traineau^ i.e. a carriage embarked upon 
a sledge ; and the road is one entire sheet of glass, over 
372 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

which the horses gallop almost the whole of the way. I 
have dined twice there, and was witness of the arrival of 
news which gave me most cordial joy. . . . During the 
time of dinner a courier arrived from Petersburg bringing 
a letter to the Duke, written by the Emperor himself, 
and containing these words : — 

' " I have this day made a grant to the Due de Polignae 
of an estate in Lithuania, containing a thousand peasants ; 
and I have the pleasure of signifying it to him with my 
own hand. (Signed) Paul." 

' The estate is worth about dC'SOOO sterling a year, in a 
fine country, where the living costs absolutely nothing ; 
for according to the tenure of the estate, horses, 
meat, eggs, butter, etc., down to the minutest article, 
are furnished by the peasants exclusively of their rent. 
This grant, in addition to that of the Empress, will 
make the Duke almost a rich man, and diminish his 
sense of the losses which he has sustained in France.' 

To his friend James Losh, Tweddell writes from Tulczyn 
on February 5 : ' I have been here just a month, and am 
much delighted with my residence. We are just restored 
to tranquillity after a mighty bustle. There has been a 
great wedding in the family ; we have had a mob of Russian 
princes, and all the feet of Ukraine have been summoned 
to dance. At present we are reduced to about sixteen 
persons. Among these is the Marshal Suvarrow, the 
hero of Ismael. He is a most extraordinary character. 
He dines every morning at nine o'clock. He sleeps 
almost naked. He affects a perfect indifference to heat 
and cold, and quits his chamber, which approaches suffo- 
cation, in order to review his troops, in a thin linen 
jacket, while the thermometer is at ten degrees below 

373 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

freezing.! jjjg manners correspond with his humours. 
I dined with him this morning. He cried to me across 
the table, "Tweddell!" (he generally addressed by the 
surname), " the French have taken Portsmouth. I have 
just received a courier from England. The King is in 
the Tower, and Sheridan is Protector." ' 

Another long journey of eighteen days and fifteen 
nights, with two upsets on the road, brought the traveller 
to Moscow in time for the Coronation of Paul in April, 
1797. The ceremony he describes as one of unique 
magnificence, but says that Paul is only a caricature of 
Peter the Third, and an imitator of Frederick the Great. 
He supped with Stanislas, ex-King of Poland, saw a great 
deal of the highest Russian society, and in May followed 
the rest of his friends to St. Petersburg. The journey 
which he had projected to Constantinople at this time was 
postponed until the autumn, and he spent the summer in 
a tour through Finland to Stockholm, whence he writes 
to Mrs. Ward, who was contemplating a visit to Paris : — 

' Madame de Stael is now at Paris, and perhaps Madame 
de Flahault. I will give you letters to both these ladies ; 
they are both very clever women ; the former, indeed, 
is a most superior person ; I have seen very few men 
by any means equal to her in conversation ; she is 
not handsome ; that, I suppose, makes no difference to 
you. . . . Madame de Stael, however, has, I understand, 
entirely eclipsed Madame Tallien, who is the belle of 
Paris, and whose beauty has retired in grand disarray 
before the prevailing wit of the daughter of Necker. I am 
sure she will be glad to see you, on your own account first, 

^ Suvorof s (as the name is more commonly spelt) wardrobe is said to 
have consisted of one uniform and one dressing-gown. He died in 
disgrace in 1800, aged seventy-one. 

374 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

and next on mine, as I have the good fortune to stand well 

in her good graces.^ ... I understand that [probably 

Dr. Warton] is terribly annoyed about the Shakespearean 
forgery. There is the misery of being a proud critic. I 
am also among the number of the wise ones duped on 
that occasion, and I should be well content to have no 
other cares than those which that circumstance has occa- 
sioned me ; it was, to be sure, a very facetious humbug."' 

In September Tweddell was back again at St. Peters- 
burg, and at the end of the month he set out for the 
Crimea.^ The Due de Polignac's place, Woitovka, lay 
directly in his way, and here he stayed several weeks. Of 
course he was nearly killed in a carriage accident on the 
way, his twelfth overturn in twelve months ; and it may 
here be noted that he was as unlucky on sea as on land, 
never making a voyage, according to his own account, 
without encountering either a storm or a calm. On his 
journey through the Crimea he stayed at Sympherol with 
Professor Pallas,^ ' the most distinguished man of letters 
in Russia,' made drawings of all the most interesting views 
in the neighbourhood, and copied all the inscriptions he 
could find. It was during his visit to the Polignacs that, 
as he explains in a letter to Mr. Digby, a material change 
took place in his way of living. 

' I no longer,' he writes, ' eat flesh-meat, nor drink 
fermented liquors. ... I am persuaded we have no other 
right than the right of the strongest, to sacrifice to our 

^ Madame de Stael said of John Tweddell : ' J'ai rencontre peu de 
personnes dont le caractere inspirat plus d'attachement, et dont la 
conversation fut plus interessante.' 

- As will be seen, Tweddell covered a great deal of the same ground 
that Lady Craven had traversed twelve years earlier. After his death her 
Travels were found among his books. 

3 Author of the Flora Rossica and many other scientific works. 

375 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

monstrous appetites the bodies of living things, of whose 
qualities and relations we are ignorant ... to flay alive 
and to dismember a defenceless creature, to pamper the 
unsuspecting beast which grazes before us, with the 
single view of sucking his blood and grinding his bones. 
. . , Our passions must be much tamed and reduced by 
abstinence from whatever irritates the blood, and conse- 
quently the habits of virtue must be invigorated, and 
the facility of its practice greatly increased. . . . The 
Duchesse de Guiche has adopted this plan also, and we 
sustain every day the artillery of the whole house. In 
the meantime we live upon rice, milk, eggs, potatoes, 
bread, and dried fruits.' 

After being compelled to wait six tedious weeks at 
Odessa for the vessel in which he had engaged a passage, 
Tweddell arrived at Constantinople on May 21, 1798, and 
was hospitably entertained at the English Palace by our 
Ambassador, Mr. Spencer Smythe. His further plans 
were then uncertain. ' The French and the plague,' he 
observes, ' must decide in some measure where I shall 
go. Be assured that I have no inclination to encounter 
either disorder ; but, oh ! those monstrous despots who 
call themselves republicans. They have degraded the 
name; they have done more harm to real liberty than 
they ever promised to do good.' It is interesting to 
note from this and the following passage how the feel- 
ings of a true lover of liberty, a theoretical republican, 
and a former admirer of the principles of the French 
Revolution, changed towards the people and the govern- 
ment that preached brotherhood and freedom, while it 
practised cruelty and oppression : ^ 

1 His friendship with the exiled aristocrats may have had something to 
do with this change of feeling. 

376 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

' The inordinate ambition of the five kings of France 
[the pentarchial directory] ; their utter contempt of 
their own principles in every one of their own acts of in- 
terior government ; their profligate usurpation of power 
in annulling elections and ruling by military force ; 
their hateful plunder of their own infatuated allies ; 
their arrogant and disgusting pretensions to universal 
sovereignty, and to all the property of the affiliated 
republics ; together with their fulsome panegyrics upon 
their own virtue, their patriotism, their superiority to 
the ancients, and that purity of honour which in no one 
instance they have not violated with the most offensive 
and nauseous aggravations ; — all this horrible union 
of whatever is calculated to wound a feeling and a 
generous spirit, makes me especially execrate those who, 
having had the fairest chance of benefiting the human 
race, have converted all their medicines into poisons. 
Their conduct towards America, and more especially 
towards Switzerland, transports me with rage. The 
French have done an eternal injury to the cause of 
freedom ; they have misassigned its holy name and its 
divine attributes to despotism in its worst form — to 
violence personating justice.' 

The traveller spent the whole summer in or near 
Constantinople, relinquishing his plans of a tour in 
Egypt in consequence of the disturbed state of the 
country. ' Rebels on one hand,' he writes on Sep- 
tember 10, ' and the French on the other ; a tottering 
government and a discontented people ; the strongest 
fortress of European Turkey invaded ; add to all 
this the plague in every quarter, and you will easily 
imagine why I have chosen to pause rather than to pro- 
ceed.' Things, however, were beginning to wear a more 
favourable aspect owing to the news just received of 

377 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

Nelson's victory over the French at the battle of the Nile, 
which had spread a great satisfaction throughout the 
East. ' There have been public celebrations of the 
victory at llhodes,' writes Tweddell, ' during the three 
days that Nelson stayed there ; and the Sultan, when he 
heard of it, took an aigrette of diamonds out of his 
turban (worth at least £19,00) and sent it, with a letter 
signed by himself, to Mr. Smythe, as a present to the 
Admiral. This is the greatest honour he can confer on 
any subject ; he knows no higher distinction."" 

It was not until the end of October that our hero 
found himself able to set out on his projected tour in 
Greece, which was to include visits to Nicea, the lake of 
ApoUonia, Sestos and Abydos, the plain of Troy, Smyrna, 
Ephesus, the Grecian islands, Athens, and the Morea, He 
had already collected a large number of valuable draw- 
ings of Constantinople, its environs, and the costumes of 
the country, and carried with him on his journey through 
Greece a clever French artist, M. Preaux, who had been 
employed by the Comte de Choiseul ; and being unable 
to return to his own country, was glad to make the pro- 
posed tour, during which he was to execute drawings of 
the most interesting buildings and ruins upon very 
moderate conditions. Not wishing to be burdened with 
overmuch baggage, Tweddell left all his papers and notes, 
his collection of drawings, and his journals of the tours 
in Switzerland and the Crimea, at Pera, with a Mr. 
Thornton, a servant of the Levant Company, and author 
of The Present State of Turkey. 

Naturally, Athens was the principal objective of so 
ardent a classical scholar. Here he intended to spend at 
least two months ; and ' I promise you,' he writes to his 
father, ' those who come after me shall have nothing to 
glean. Not only every temple and every archway, but 
378 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

every stone and every inscription, shall be copied with 
the most scrupulous fidelity.' He arrived at Athens on 
December 29, and here he spent nearly double the pro- 
posed period, living, as he writes, ' very economically 
and philosophically ; solely intent upon the great objects 
that surround us. We rise early, and dine at five o'clock. 
The whole interval is employed in drawing on the one 
hand ; and on the other, in considering the scenes of 
ancient renown, the changes which they have undergone, 
and the marks that yet distinguish them, I shall certainly 
have the most valuable collection of drawings of this 
country which was ever carried out of it.' Tweddell 
believed, it is evident from his letters, that by his labori- 
ous investigations he should be enabled to correct and 
supplement the observations of other workers in the 
same field. His special qualifications for such an under- 
taking were stated by no less an authority than Dr. Parr, 
who says in a letter to Robert Tweddell, written after 
John's death : — 

' I know, and have often said, that in good taste and 
good learning John Tweddell was more qualified to 
discover and communicate what scholars would value than 
any other traveller with whom I was acquainted. . . . He 
had the finest ear both for the prose and poetry of Greek 
and Latin writers ; he had a gaiety of fancy which must 
have been of the highest use to him in surveying the 
works both of nature and art. He had a clearness of 
judgment which must have preserved him from the 
impositions to which ordinary travellers are exposed. 
His mind was impregnated with the poetical imagery of 
the ancients. ... In truth, Mr. Tweddell ! he was pre- 
eminently formed to be a learned traveller ; and then, 
dear sir, to ardent curiosity and a right imagination he 
added that love of truth which must have protected 

379 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

him from the glittering ornaments and the false state- 
ments which often disgust me in Volney and other French 
writers.' 

In March Tweddell was contemplating a tour in the 
Peloponnesus, and was only waiting at Athens for a 
Tartar messenger with letters from Constantinople ; but 
on April 25 he is still at Athens, the messenger not 
having yet arrived. He had received information, how- 
ever, of the total destruction of Peraby fire, and had every 
reason to fear that the collections and journals which were 
deposited with Mr. Thornton were irrevocably lost. ' My 
share of this calamity appears no doubt very inconsider- 
able,'' he writes, ' yet perhaps I would have consented to 
lose one-half of all I may one day have rather than the 
fruits of three years and a half of constant application. 
. . . Amen ! I am wedded to calamity, and so must 
think no more of this,'' These words are worth quoting, 
as showing the value that Tweddell set upon his papers, 
which, as it happened, were rescued from the flames by 
Mr. Thornton, only to suffer a more mysterious fate. 
The owner heard of the safety of his property during the 
travels which he undertook during May and June in the 
Peloponnesus. From thence he returned to Athens in 
July, intending only to remain there a week, on his way 
to the Grecian Archipelago. 

But the Grecian islands were to remain for ever unseen, 
for both Tweddell and Preaux the artist were attacked 
with a malignant fever, of which the former died on 
July 25 after four days'" illness, having only lately 
passed his thirtieth birthday. He was buried at his 
own request in the Temple of Theseus ; and twelve years 
later, through the exertions of Lord Byron and other 
travellers, a block of marble, sawed from one of the 
bas-reliefs of the Parthenon, was placed over the grave, 
380 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

bearing a Greek inscription composed by the Rev. Robert 
Walpole. Many were the expressions of grief and regret 
called forth from those who had known the dead scholar, 
and expected him to fulfil the promise of his youth. 
Dr. Parr, in a letter to Mr. Losh, alludes to Tweddell's 
death as ' an event which must blast many of my fairest 
prospects in that portion of existence which is reserved 
for me. [Dr. Parr died in 1825, aged seventy-eight.] 
You may assure his father that no man ever esteemed 
his son more unfeignedly, ever respected him more deeply, 
ever loved him more fondly than myself." ^ Several other 
admirers struggled valiantly, if unsuccessfully, in elegiac 
verse with the impracticable name of Tweddell, e.g. — 

' There where e'en Tweddell's mortal fire, 

Alas, how soon must all expire ! ' 
And again — 

' Is Tweddell gone ? and shall no voice be raised 

His hig-h endowments or his fate to sing ? ' 

It might be thought that the misfortunes of our hero 
were over with his death, which perhaps to him was no 
such unwelcome event. There are many passages in his 
published letters which show that he suffered from a 
profound melancholy, caused, it may be, as much by his 
disappointment in his career as by his disappointment 
in love. His ambition, he declared, was extinct, his 
enthusiasm burnt out, all the brilliant society that he 
had enjoyed since leaving England had made no serious 
alteration upon the permanent feeling of his mind. ' I 
have no particular grief at present,' he had written while 
he was in Sweden, ' but I am not happy ; I feel a want of 
something I once thought necessary to me ; and I don't 
know what it is to possess that tranquil habit of thought 

' Dr. Parr composed a Latin epitaph for a tablet commemorating John 
Tweddell, which was placed in the chapel of Haydon, Northumberland. 

381 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

or feeling which some persons owe to mere health, and 
others to the tenor of a contented life that has never 
been disturbed/ 

With the literary scandal that conferred a posthumous 
celebrity on the name of John Tweddell it is not necessary 
to deal at any length. Briefly, the facts are as follows : 
After TweddelFs death, Lord Elgin, who had just 
been sent out as Ambassador Extraordinary to the Porte, 
ordered that all the dead man's effects (he died intestate) 
should be sent to the British Chancery at Constantinople. 
The collection of drawings and manuscripts that had 
been left at Athens was embarked on board a vessel 
which was wrecked or stranded in the Sea of Marmora, 
her cargo remaining under water for three days. The 
boxes containing TweddelFs property were recovered, and 
on their arrival at Constantinople were placed in the cellars 
of the Chancery, where they were left for eight weeks. 
When at length they Avere opened, the contents were 
found to be in a state resembling pulp, but the manuscripts 
were still legible, and the drawings were ' restored ' by a 
local artist. According to Lord Elgin's account, all the 
effects, including those that had been deposited with 
Mr. Thornton, were carefully packed by Professor Carlyle, 
a member of his suite, and seen on board a homeward 
bound vessel by his chaplain, Dr. Philip Hunt. This 
property, valuable at least to the Tweddell family, never 
arrived in England, nor, in spite of the most anxious 
inquiries on the part of the dead mane's friends, could its 
whereabouts ever afterwards be traced. It had dis- 
appeared as completely and mysteriously as though the 
earth had opened and swallowed it up. 

The matter was allowed to rest for a dozen years ; and 
then, the suspicions of Robert Tweddell having been 
aroused that his brother's collections had been treated 
382 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHN TWEDDELL 

with culpable negligence, if not actually tampered with, 
he made further inquiries of Lord Elgin, and receiving no 
very satisfactory answers, petitioned the Levant Company 
at Constantinople to institute a searching investigation 
into the whole matter. The petition was granted, but 
no further light was thrown on the mystery. Lord Elgin, 
' by a strong effort of memory,' expressed his convic- 
tion that the goods had been sent home on the Nezo 
Adventure^ which had suffered shipwreck on the way. 
But inquiry proved that her cargo had included no 
packages belonging to Mr. Tweddell, while no invoice or 
bill of lading could be discovered to show upon what ship 
the property had been embarked. On the other hand, 
Mr. Thornton and other witnesses, who were evidently 
adverse to Lord Elgin, declared that the drawings and 
manuscripts had been left lying about at the Embassy, 
where they were examined and copied by members of the 
suite, and that some of the original costume drawings 
were afterwards seen in Lord Elgin''s private collection, 
Mr, Thornton stated that in 1801 Lord Elgin expressed 
to him the disappointment he had just experienced at the 
refusal of Dr. Hunt to proceed to Athens for the super- 
intendence of his lordship's Pursuits in Greece, adding, 
' I had prepared him for the purpose by allowing him the 
use of Tweddeirs papers and collections.' 

In 1815 Robert Tweddell published his brother's 
Remains in two quarto volumes, containing his corre- 
spondence, his Prolusiones Juveniles, and an Appendix 
(of between two and three hundred pages) describing the 
extraordinary disappearance of his collections. The 
editor set forth at full length his communications with 
Lord Elgin, and did not disguise his suspicions that his 
lordship had tampered with the property committed to 
his care. The book (which went into a second edition in 

383 



THE ROMANCE OF JOHxN TWEDDELL 

1816) was reviewed in the ^fZi/^i/^/g//, the reviewer taking 
a line which, though carefully guarded, was on the whole 
inimical to Lord Elgin, and demanding that further light 
should be thrown on the subject. The Ambassador 
published his defence in the form of an intemperate and 
not very convincing letter, which concludes with a warn- 
ing to the editor that if he persists in his evil courses 
his journal will become an 'intolerable nuisance/ The 
Quarterly also reviewed the book ; ^ and while pointing 
out that the charge of misappropriation was absurd in 
view of the absence of motive, held Lord Elgin convicted 
of negligence in his treatment of TweddelPs property. 

The subject caused, as might be supposed, a nine days'' 
wonder in the literary world. In the end Robert 
Tweddell withdrew the most serious of his charges, and 
the controversy was allowed to drop. Fate, grown tired 
of its sport with a victim who was unconscious alike of 
good or evil fortune, allowed poor John to sleep undis- 
turbed in Theseus'' Temple, where the traveller may still, 
in the words of one of those forgotten elegies — 

' Pause on the tomb of him who sleeps below ; 
Fancy's fond hope and learning's favourite child, 
Accomplished Tweddell !' 

^ It was also discussed at considerable length in the British Critic and 
in Blackwood. 



384 



INDEX 



Abington, Mrs., 104, 114, 115, 
183. 

Albemarle, Anne, Countess of, 120. 
Algarotti, Signer, 14. 
Amelia, Princess, 6, 7, 12, 179. 
Anspach, Elizabeth, Margravine of, 

119, 182-200. 

Christian Frederic, Margrave 

of, 144, 145, 167-184. 

Badcock, Mr., 108. 

Baillie, Joanna, 270, 285. 

Bandello, Matthieu, 48. 

Barrymore, Lord, 183. 

Bassi, Signora, 16, 32. 

Bath, Thomas, Marquis of, 28. 

Bathurst, Allen, Earl of, 16, 17, 30, 

31- 
Beattie, Dr., 80. 
Beauchamp, Lord, 50. 
Beauclerk, Lord Aubrey, 35. 

Topham, 86. 

Beccari, Dr., 32, 
Beckford, Alderman, 67. 
Bentinck, Lord Edward, loS. 
Bentley, Joanna, 59. 

Richard, 58, 60, 69, 84. 

Richard, junior, 69, 74. 

Berkeley, Augustus, Earl of, 119, 

120, 121. 

Elizabeth, Countess of, 119, 

121, 122, 123, 125, 126, 127, 
128. 

Lady Elizabeth, 1 19-127. 

Frederic, Earl of, 126, 149, 

158. 
Lady Georgiana, 121, 123, 

124, 125. 

2 B 



Berkeley, the Hon. Grantley, 183. 

Narbonne, 122. 

Bernard, Dr., 84. 

Bernsprunger, Baron, 179. 

Berwick, l5uke of, 126. 

Bickerstaff, Isaac, 72. 

Bingley, Mr., 3. 

Blanca, Florida, 90, 93, 96. 

Blessington, Charles, Earl of, 183. 

Blount, Mrs., 38, 39. 

Sir Walter, 38, 

Boothby, Sir Brooke, 275. 

Boston, William, Lord, 125. 

Boswell, James, 57, 80, 102. 

Bottetourt, Lord, 122. 

Boyle, Lady Dorothy, 24, 25. 

Bristol, Elizabeth, Countess of, 
144. 

Brooke, Francis, Lord, 28, 40. 

Brothers, Samuel, 362. 

Bruce, Charles, Lord, 14. 

Brunswick-Oels, Duke of, 179. 

Brunton, Louisa, 185. 

Buckingham and Chandos, Richard, 
Duke of, 200. 

Buckinghamshire, Albinia, Coun- 
tess of, 183. 

Burke, Edmund, 70, 71, 79. 

Burlington, Countess of, 24, 25. 

Earl of, 24, 25. 

Burns, Jean, 286. 

Bute, John, Earl of, 65, 68, 70, 75. 

Byrom, John, 59. 

Byron, George, Lord, 195. 

Campbell, Lady Charlotte, 284. 

Miss, 14. 

Thomas, 293. 

385 



INDEX 



Carlisle, Frederick, Earl of, 123. 
Carlyle, Professor, 382. 
Carnarvon, Marquis of, 164. 
Carne, John, 289. 
Caroline, Princess of Wales, 196. 

Queen, 4, 6, 7. 

Carter, Elizabeth, 16, 31, 270. 
Carteret, Frances, Lady, 45. 

George, Lord, 44, 45. 

Lady Sophia, 48. 

Catherine, Empress of Russia, 151. 
Chesterfield, Philip, Earl of, 44. 
Choiseul, Comte de, 155, 156. 
Cholmondeley, George, Earl of, 123. 
Cibber, Mrs., 61. 
Clairon, Mademoiselle, 169, 170, 

Clarence, Duke of, 193. 
Clayton, Mrs., 6, 7, 8. 
Coles, Miss, 149. 
Colman, George, 83. 
Congreve, William, 17. 
Conway, Henry, 21. 

Francis, Lord, 28, 29, 51. 

Corsi, Marchese, 23. 

Cowper, William, 341. 

Craggs, Ann, 121. 

Craon, Princess, 26. 

Craven, Elizabeth, Lady, 129-181. 

the Hon. Keppel, 184, 196. 

William, Lord, 126, 135, 136, 

139, 159, 160, 181. 

William, Earl of, 185. 

Cumberland, Bishop, 58. 

Elizabeth, 82. 

George, 90. 

Henry Frederic, Duke of, 

126. 

Joanna, 59. 

Rev. Richard, 59, 60, 62, 63, 

65. 77- 

Richard, 57-116. 

William, Duke of, 12, 13. 

Czartoriski, Princess, 132, 151. 

Delany, Mrs., 45. 

De Quincey, Thomas, 288. 

D'Este, Captain, 285. 

Digby, Colonel, 301, 365, 367. 

386 



Dilly, Charles, 62. 

Dive, Miss, 9. 

D'Oberkirk, Baroness, 169, 170. 

Dodington, Bubb, 65, 66, 67, 183. 

Dorset, Charles, Duke of, 143. 

Drummond, Adam, 83. 

Drury, Sir Thomas, 71. 

Dunk, Miss, 64. 

Durazzi, Signora, 16. 

Eatoff, Henry, 109. 
Edgeworth, Miss, 282. 
Egremont, Charles, Earl of, 190, 

123. 
Elgin, Thomas, Earl of, 368, 382, 

383, 384. 
Elisee, Pere, 120. 
Elizabeth, Madame, 143. 
Euston, Charles, Earl of, 24, 25. 
Eyre, Lord, 76. 

Fanshawe, Catherine, 274. 
Farren, Miss, 104. 
Faulkener, George, 71. 

Miss, 71, 72. 

Ferdinand, King of Naples, 176. 
Fermor, Lady Charlotte, 21, 43, 

47- 

Juliana, Lady, 21, 47. 

Lady Sophia, 21, 37, 41- 

45- 

Sir William, 48. 

Ferrier, Miss, 288. 

Fielding, Henry, 52, 105, 107. 

Finch, William, 47. 

Fingall, Peter, Earl of, 121. 

Fitz-James, Marquis de, 126. 

Flahault, Madame de, 367, 374. 

Fletcher, Sir Robert, 80. 

Foote, Samuel, 70, 71, 78, 80, 104. 

Forbes, Georgiana, Lady, 127. 

George, Lord, 123, 124, 125. 

Foster, Lady Elizabeth, 144. 
Fox, Charles, 132. 

Henry, 66. 

Frederic William, Prince Royal of 

Prussia, 368. 

Garrick, David, 57, 61, 67, 68, 74, 



INDEX 



77, 78, 80, 84, 85, 89, 100, loi, 

102, 113. 
Gay, John, 17. 
Gell, Sir William, 196. 
Genlis, Madame de, 367. 
George 11., 6. 
George iii., 47, 70. 
Germaine, Lady Elizabeth, 122, 

127. 

Lord George, 99, no. 

Gibbon, Edward, 79. 

Goldsmith, Oliver, 57, 80, 81, 83, 

84, 116. 
Gordon, Jane, Duchess of, 266, 

275. 

Alexander, Duke of, 256, 292. 

Gozzadini, Signora, 32. 

Grafton, Charles, Duke of, 24, 25, 

43. 
Granard, Lord, 123. 
Grant, Mrs. Anne, of Laggan, 237, 

255-296. 

Duncan, 269, 282. 

Isabella, 289. 

Mr., 254, 260, 261. 

Granville, Sophia, Countess, 45, 46. 

George, Earl, 44, 46. 

Gray, Thomas, 86, 87, 88. 
Grey, Mrs. , 333. 

Charles, 333. 

Guadagni, Signor, 23. 
Guiche, Duchesse de, 370. 
Guines, Due de, 132, 141, 142, 146. 
Gunning, Isabel, 299, 301, 314, 

316,366. 

Margaret, 301. 

Sir Robert, 300. 

Halhed, Mr., 348. 

Halifax, George, Earl of, 62-64, 

67, 68, 70-72. 
Hamilton, William, 68, 70. 

Sir William, 176. 

Harris, Mr., 115. 
Harte, Emma, 176. 
Hastings, Warren, 356. 
Heidegger, 28. 
Hemans, Mrs., 293. 
Henderson, John, 104. 



Hertford, Algernon, Earl of, 4, 5, 
50. 

Frances, Countess of, 3-53. 

Francis, Earl of, 51. 

Hervey, James, 51. 

Lady, 66, 70. 

Mr., 9. 

Hill, Joseph, 158, 159. 
Hobbes, Thomas, 23. 
Holdernesse, Lord, 28, 41. 
Hook, Mrs., 273. 
Hunt, the Rev. Philip, 382. 
Hussey, Abbe, 90, 92, 94. 

Ireland, Samuel, 344. 
Irving, Edward, 293. 

Jeffrey, Francis, 278, 280. 
Jeffries, Lord, 6. 
Jenner, Edward, 137. 
Jenyns, Soame, 79. 
Johnson, the Rev. John, 274. 

Samuel, 4, 57, 79, 81, 100, 

102. 

Kaunitz, Count, 94. 

Prince, 150. 

Keith, Lady, 275. 

• Sir Robert, 149. 

Kemble, John, 104. 
Keppel, Admiral, 137. 
Knapton, Mr., 45. 
Knight, Charles, 234. 

Lackington, George, 229, 234. 

James, 112, 205-234. 

La Rochefoucault, 21, 22, 23. 
Lauzun, Due de, 132, 141. 
Le Brun, Madame, 129. 
Lempster, George, Lord, 47. 

Thomas, Lord, 6, 9. 

Lennox, Mrs., 6. 
Leslie, Mr., 40. 
LeTexier, M., 183. 
Ligne, Prince de, 370. 
Lincoln, Henry, Earl of, 41-44. 
Lonsdale, Henry, Viscount, 15. 
Loughborough, Alexander, Lord, 
139- 

387 



LNDEX 



Louis XV., 13. 

XVI., 120. 

Louise, Princess Royal of Prussia, 

368. 
Lowth, Dr., 84. 
Luxborough, Lady, 49-52. 
Lyttelton, George, Lord, 78. 

Macartney, Lord, 138. 
Macaulay, Thomas, 46. 
Mackenzie, Henry, 278, 280. 
Macpherson, James, 80, 262. 
Macvicar, Anne, 239-254. 

Duncan, 239-242, 259. 

Madden, Robert, 199, 200. 
Mann, Sir Horace, 17, 25, 37, 42, 

43, 48, 148. 
Manners, Lady Frances, 8. 
Marie Antoinette, 144. 
Marlborough, Charles, Duke of, il, 

12. 

John, Duke of, 152. 

Sarah, Duchess of, 7, 152. 

Martin, Samuel, 75, 76. 

Mason, William, 87, 99. 

Meadows, Miss, 9. 

Melcombe, Lord, 65, 69, 70. 

Montagu, George, 74. 

Lady Mary Wortley, 3, 5, 7, 

21, 23, 31, 33, 42, 43, 153. 
Montesquiou, Abbe, 367. 
Murphy, Thomas, 70, 89. 
Murray, Lord Charles, 199, 200. 

Nadaillac, Marquise de, 368, 

369- 
Necker, M., 370. 
Neuilly, Madame de, 13. 
Newcastle, Thomas, Duke of, 65. 
Nichols, Dr., 61. 
Nithsdale, Lord, 32. 

Lady, 32. 

Norfolk, Charles, Duke of, 198. 
North, Frederick, Lord, 98, 99. 
Northumberland, Hugh, Duke of, 

Nugent, George, Lord, 121. 

Oliver, Dr., 47. 

388 



Orleans, Louis Philippe, Due d', 

367. 
Ossory, Lady, 89, 132. 
Osuna, Duke of, 96. 

Palatine, Sophia, Electress, 17. 

Paley, Dr., 346. 

Pallas, Professor, '375. 

Pallavicini, General, 95. 

Parr, Dr., 344, 379, 381. 

Pearse, Dr., 36. 

Pelham, Miss, 42. 

Pembroke, Mary, Countess of, 9. 

Penn, William, 47. 

Pitt, George, 43. 

Polignac, Due de, 370, 373, 

375- 

Duchesse de, 143, 146. 

Pomfret, Henrietta, Countess of, 

3-49. 
Thomas, Earl of, 6, 7, 9, 

48. 
Pope, Alexander, 13, 17, 18, 26, 

28, 38, 104. 
Porteous, Dr., 272. 
Portland, William, Duke of, 108. 
Potemkin, Prince, 152. 
Potozka, Countess, 372. 
Preaux, M., 378, 380. 
Prior, Matthew, 17. 
Pulteney, Robert, 29. 

QuEENSBERRY, Catherine, Duchess 
of, 29. 

Charles, Duke of, 28. 

Quin, James, 61. 

Reynolds, Sir Joshua, 80, 82, 100, 

131- 
Riccardi, Marchese, 19, 23. 
Ridge, Elizabeth, 68. 
Rivarol, Comte de, 367. 
Robinson, Mrs., 135. 

Sir Thomas, 41. 

Rochford, Lord, 28. 
Rogers, Samuel, 57, 103. 
Romanzof, Princess, 152. 
Romney, George, 87, 100, lOl, 

102. 



INDEX 



Rosalba, 34. 

Ross, General, 366. 

Rowe, Mrs., 6. 

Rutland, Bridget, Duchess of, 8. 

Sackville, George, Viscount, 89, 

99, 108, 109. 
St. Albans, Diana, Duchess of, 39. 
St. George, Chevalier de, 32. 
St. John, the Hon. Frederick, 186. 
Savage, Richard, 4. 
Schuyler, Colonel, 240. 

Madame, 240, 241, 252, 273. 

Schwellenberg, Madame, 180. 
Scott, Sir Walter, 113, 275, 281, 

290, 293. 
Seckendorf, Baron, 180. 
Sedgewicke, Mr., 72. 
Sefton, William, Earl of, 185. 
Seymour, Lady Betty, 51. 

Sir Edward, 50, 51. 

Sharpe, Charles Kirkpatrick, 119, 

191, 196. 
Shenstone, William, 5, 49, 52. 
Sheridan, Richard, 57, 85. 
Siddons, Mrs., 104. 
Smith, Nancy, 214. 
Smithson, Sir Hugh, 51. 
Somerset, Algernon, Duke of, 50, 

51- 

Charles, Duke of, 4. 

Frances, Duchess of, 51-53. 

Southey, Robert, 285. 

Spencer Smythe, Mr., 376. 

Stael, Madame de, 371, 375. 

Stafford, Lady, 66. 

Stanhope, Lady Isabella, 126. 

Stewart, Miss, 239. 

Suffolk, Henrietta, Countess of, 14, 

122. 
Sundon, Lady, 6, 8, 9. 
Suvarrow, Marshal, 372, 374. 
Swift, Jonathan, 22. 



Tallien, Madame, 374. 

Taylor, Dr., 185, 188, 190, 197. 

Thomson, James, 5, 27, 49. 

Thurloe, John, 18. 

Thurlow, Edward, Lord, 132, 140. 

Thynne, Henry, 4. 

' Tiranna, La,' 95. 

Townshend, Lady, 42. 

Trapp, Dr., 15. 

Tweddell, Francis, 300. 

John, 299-384. 

Robert, 389. 

Tyrconnel, Lord, 123. 

Vauci.use, Madame de, 131. 
Vernon, Admiral, 35. 

Mr., 153. 

Vincent, Dr., 116. 
Violante, Princess, 20. 

Wales, Augusta, Princess of, 

125. 
I Walpole, Edward, 181. 
Horace, 3, 17, 20, 25, 37, 41- 

48, 70, 74, 86, 89, 129, 133-136, 

142, 161, 165, 180. 

Lady, 17, 21. 

Sir Robert, 29. 

the Rev. Robert, 381. 

Warburton, Dr., 67, 84. 

Watts, Dr., 5. 

Wesley, John, 209, 212, 222. 

Westmoreland, Mary, Countess of, 

14. 
Weymouth, Thomas, Viscount, 4, 

27, 28. 
Whitfield, George, 15. 
Wigtoun, Countess of, 8. 
William in,, 77. 
Wilson, Professor, 280. 
Winchelsea, Daniel, Earl of, 47. 

Zanotti, Dr., 32. 



Printed by T. and A. Constable, (late) Printers to Her Majesty 
at the Edinburgh University Press 



SEP 26 1902 



